The Fortress of the Son

The Fortress of the Son
“Mr Marcus, you called me,” Emily said with her face frowned in pain.

She stood in the center of the dim, smoke-filled study, her body trembling slightly. It wasn't just the cold air of the air conditioning that made her shake; it was the residual shock of the last six hours. Her lip was swollen from where Aria had punched her. Her wrists were bruised from the bodyguards dragging her. But the deepest bruises were the ones no one could see—the ones Norman Malcovich had left on her soul in that red room, and the ones Aria had left on her heart by putting her there.

Marcus Gerry sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his wheelchair positioned like a throne. The room was dark, lit only by the glow of multiple computer screens and the cherry red tip of his burning cigarette. He didn't look at Emily immediately. He was watching a screen on his left, his eyes narrow and reptilian.

On the screen was a live feed from Solara Heights. It showed the hallway outside Aria’s apartment. It was empty. It was silent.

“Do you want me to make you speak?”

His voice was low, a gravelly rumble that vibrated in the quiet room. He finally turned his head to look at Emily. His eyes were dead, void of any sympathy for her injuries or her trauma. He only saw a tool that had returned broken.

Marcus hated being asked twice. He hated failure. And right now, the smell of failure was filling his office.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face like a gray mask.

“I sent men to get you because you were useless to me on the streets,” Marcus spat out. “I watched the feed. I saw Aria throw you out like garbage. I saw the security team drag you away. You were supposed to be inside. You were supposed to be my eyes. And now you are here, bleeding on my carpet.”

He slammed his hand on the armrest of his wheelchair.

“Speak!”

He had watched it happen in real-time. He had seen Aria rush into the apartment. He had seen her look directly into the camera lens, her eyes filled with a defiance he hadn't seen since he broke her in the Vernbuilds Corps office and tossed her to the slum. She had held the phone while it rang, looking at his name on the screen, and she hadn't answered. She had stared right at him, challenging him, mocking him with her silence.

It was the ultimate insult. The puppet had cut her strings.

Emily flinched at his shout. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold her shattered pieces together. She had been immediately cornered by Marcus' men and forced her into the car and brought to Marcus' estate. She hadn't wanted to come. She wanted to go home, to scrub her skin until it bled, to know if she can forget the smell of Norman Malcovich. But no one said no to Marcus.

Emily's mouth vibrated with anger as she said, “Aria set me up Mr Marcus.”

The anger gave her strength. It was a hot, burning coal in her stomach. She hated Aria. She hated her more than she feared Marcus. Aria had betrayed their sisterhood. Aria had sold her to save herself.

Marcus only stared at her with his fingers vibrating while he sat on his wheelchair with his cigarette. He was tapping his fingers on the leather armrest, a fast, rhythmic tap-tap-tap that sounded like a ticking bomb. He didn't speak. He waited. He wanted the details. He wanted to know exactly how his perfect plan had unraveled.

Emily continued, her voice gaining volume as the memory of the gala washed over her.

“At the gala event, Aria pushed me to Norman as the package she was meant to be,” Emily said while she frowned remembering how Norman used her as a pet with no name.

She remembered the gold dress. She remembered Aria’s reassuring smile, the way Aria had told her to use the back hallway. She remembered the guards grabbing her. And she remembered Norman. The way he looked at her with disappointment. The way he used her body to erase the memory of the girl he hated. He hadn't even asked her name. To him, she was just flesh.

“She knew,” Emily said, tears pricking her eyes. “She knew about Plan B. She found out. And she decided she was too good for it. She decided that her body was too precious for the old man, so she threw me in the fire instead.”

Marcus’s eyes widened slightly. The ash from his cigarette fell onto his trousers, but he didn't brush it off.

Aria had maneuvered him. She had outsmarted the situation. She had kept herself pure for the son by sacrificing the friend to the father. It was ruthless. It was cold. It was exactly the kind of move Marcus would have made.

But it was disobedience.

“Why did you wait till now!” Marcus shouted with anger.

The sound echoed off the walls.

“Why didn't you report this immediately? That was two weeks ago! Two weeks where I thought she had done the job! Two weeks where I thought Norman was compromised by her! You let me believe a lie!”

He was furious. If Aria hadn't slept with Norman, then she hadn't gotten the pillow talk. She hadn't gotten the secrets. She hadn't gotten into his safe. The entire premise of his satisfaction for the last two weeks was built on a falsehood. He had thrown her a birthday party. He had sent her diamonds. He had rewarded her for a job she didn't do.

“I thought it was a mere coincidence that I was mistaken for another package but I saw I was played by Mr Marcus.”

She looked him in the eye. She wasn't afraid anymore. She was too empty to be afraid.

“I thought maybe the guards made a mistake. I thought maybe Norman just grabbed the wrong girl. I didn't want to believe my best friend did that to me. But today... Today she admitted it. She laughed at me. She told me she made a 'tactical decision.'”

Emily spat on the floor.

“She is not working for you anymore, Marcus. She is working for herself. She is in love with Ethan Malcovich. She is protecting him. She is protecting herself. And she is playing you for a fool.”

The words hung in the air. Playing you for a fool.

Marcus went still. The tapping of his fingers stopped. The smoke curled up in a straight line.

No one played Marcus Gerry. He was the one who moved the pieces. He was the one who wrote the script.

He looked at the screen again. Aria’s apartment was still quiet. She was in there, probably laughing at him. Probably plotting her next move with the information she had stolen from the Old Estate. He knew she had gone there. He knew she had found something.

She was defiant. She was dangerous. And she needed to be reminded of who owned her.

He couldn't kill her. Not yet. She was too public. She was Ethan Malcovich’s fiancée. If she disappeared, Ethan would burn the city down to find her. Marcus needed to be smarter. He needed to squeeze her. He needed to take away her sanctuary. He needed to put her out on the street where she was vulnerable.

“Eddie!”

A young man in a tactical vest stepped out from the shadows of the corner. He was the tech specialist, the one who handled the digital side of Marcus’s operations. He looked nervous. He held a laptop in his hands like a shield.

“Yes, sir?” Eddie asked, his voice cracking.

“Take Aria's name off from Solara Heights residency, she has over stayed in Solara Heights,” Marcus commanded.

He crushed his cigarette out in the crystal ashtray, grinding it until it was just black dust.

“I want her key card deactivated. I want the elevators to stop working for her. I want the power cut to that penthouse. I want her to walk into that lobby and be told she is trespassing. I want her to be homeless by tonight.”

It was a power move. Solara Heights was one of the most exclusive buildings in the city. Marcus had pulled strings, used shell companies and bribes to get Aria that apartment under the name 'Norah'. He controlled the lease. He controlled the management company that ran the building—or at least, the company that used to run it. He wanted to show her that the luxury she lived in was a gift he could take back.

The guard nodded and opened his system as his hands hovered on the keyboard for some minute.

Eddie sat down on a chair near the desk. He typed furiously. The blue light of the screen illuminated his sweating face.

“On it, sir. Accessing the Solara Heights management database. Bypassing the firewall. Locating tenant file: Norah... Norah...”

Marcus watched him, his patience wearing thin. “Just do it. Delete her. Revoke the access.”

Eddie frowned. He typed harder. He hit the enter key multiple times. A beep sounded from the laptop. An error message.

“Sir...” Eddie muttered. “The system is... it’s slow. It’s pushing back.”

“What do you mean pushing back?” Marcus snapped. “It’s a building management system, not the Pentagon. Override it.”

“I’m trying, sir. But the security protocols have changed. They are new. They are encrypted.”

Eddie’s fingers flew across the keys. He was sweating profusely now. He knew what happened to people who failed Marcus.

“Accessing the mainframe... attempting to revoke the lease...”

Another beep. A red box flashed on the screen. ACCESS DENIED.

Eddie’s face went pale. He stopped typing. He stared at the screen in horror.

But his face changed and said, “The Solara Heights management declined my request sir!”

He said softly, terrified of the reaction.

Marcus’s eyes squinted. He wheeled himself closer to the edge of the desk. He looked like a cobra about to strike.

“Declined?” Marcus whispered. The word was dangerous. “Who declines me?”

“It’s... it’s an administrative lock, sir. The ownership status has been updated. The old overrides we installed don't work anymore.”

Marcus slammed his fist on the desk again, making the monitors shake.

“Solara Heights has been managed and owned by Solana Novak, why would they reject my offer in taking out a single name from the building!” Marcus shouted.

Solana Novak was a shell corporation. A front. Marcus knew the people behind it. He had leverage on them. They did what he said. They were the ones who put Aria in the penthouse in the first place. They wouldn't dare block him.

“Call them!” Marcus ordered. “Call Novak. Tell him if he doesn't evict that girl in ten minutes, I will release the photos of his family.”

Eddie shook his head slowly. He was looking at a document that had just popped up on his screen. It was a deed transfer. A digital record of ownership.

“Sir...” Eddie swallowed hard. “Novak doesn't own the building anymore.”

“What?” Marcus froze.

“The title... the title was transferred. It was a private sale. A hostile takeover of the asset. It happened quietly.”

Marcus felt a cold pit form in his stomach. He had been so focused on Aria, so focused on Norman, that he had missed a move on the board. He had missed a piece moving into position.

“Who?” Marcus demanded. “Who bought it? Who dares to buy a building I operate in?”

He looked at Marcus, knowing that the news he was about to deliver was going to cause an explosion.

“Sir it has been changed since last August, Ethan Malcovich has been the new CEO and owner of Solara Heights since August!”