Chapter 184 The Billionaire Grabs His Gun
"What man?" Tristan asked.
"I didn't see him," Elias said, oblivious to the shift in the room. "But he gave me a present. Can I eat my bear now?"
"Yes," I said. My voice shook. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Yes, baby. Sit at the island. Eat your food."
Elias dropped the pristine airplane on the counter and climbed onto his stool. He grabbed a fork and dug into the syrup.
Tristan picked up the toy. He did not hold it like a child's plaything. He held it like a bomb.
He met my gaze. The silence between us stretched.
We both knew exactly what this meant.
Our coastal house sat on a cliff. Elias's bedroom was on the second floor. Marcus stationed armed guards at the main gate, the beach access, and the surrounding fence. We had motion sensors. We had cameras.
Someone bypassed all of it.
Someone walked onto our property in the middle of the night. They scaled the side of the house. They stood outside my four-year-old son's window while he slept. They did not break the glass. They did not trigger an alarm.
They simply left a toy. An exact replica of the model Elias built mere hours before.
It was not a gift. It was a message.
I reached for my phone on the counter. My hands trembled. I gripped the cold metal casing until my knuckles turned white, forcing the tremor to stop. I unlocked the screen and pressed the speed dial.
Marcus answered on the first ring.
"Mina," Marcus said. The background noise of the security feed room hummed through the speaker.
"Lock down the estate," I commanded. I did not yell. I spoke with the icy, mechanical precision of the Chairman. "Full surrounding seal. No one enters. No one leaves. Pull the night shift footage for the exterior cameras on the south wing."
"What happened?" Marcus asked. The shift in his tone was instant. He went from relaxed to combat-ready.
"Someone breached the second floor," I stated. "They left a package on Elias's windowsill."
A heavy, deadly silence filled the line. Marcus took personal responsibility for our lives. A breach meant he failed.
"I am on my way," Marcus said. The call disconnected.
I set the phone down. I looked at Tristan.
He stared at the perfect, unbroken airplane in his hand. His knuckles flexed. The plastic cracked under his grip. He did not blink. The raw, unfiltered rage radiating from his body pulled the oxygen from the room.
He spent the last six months stepping out of the shadows. He surrendered his control to give me equal power. He promised to be a partner, not a dictator.
But looking at the threat aimed at our son, I saw the vow fracturing.
"Tristan," I said.
He did not answer. He tossed the broken plastic onto the counter. He turned and walked toward the front hallway.
I followed him. He opened the closet and reached for his heavy boots.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I am going to check the cliffside access," Tristan said. He shoved his foot into the boot and pulled the laces tight. "Marcus's men patrol the fence line. A professional would approach from the water. They scaled the rocks to avoid the thermal cameras."
He knew the tactics. He knew the mind of a predator because he used to be one.
"Marcus is handling the surroundings," I told him. "We stay inside. We secure Elias."
Tristan stood up. He towered over me in the narrow hallway. The gray eyes that looked at me with such deep devotion last night now held a dark, violent storm.
"They stood outside his window, Mina," Tristan said. The words tore out of his throat, jagged and raw. "They watched my son sleep. I am not sitting in the kitchen while the man who did this breathes the same air as my family."
He reached past me and opened a hidden panel in the coat closet. He pulled out a sleek, black handgun.
He checked the magazine, snapped it back into place, and racked the slide. The metallic clack severed the final thread of our peace.
"Put that away," I demanded. I stepped in front of the front door, blocking his exit. "We are equal partners. We do not make reckless moves. We wait for Marcus to confirm the breach."
"There is no equal partnership when someone targets my child," Tristan stated. He did not raise his voice. The absolute certainty in his tone was far more terrifying than a scream.
He reached out, wrapped his large hand around my waist, and physically moved me away from the door. He did not hurt me, but the sheer force of his movement proved how easily he could overpower me if he chose to.
The dynamic shifted. The balance broke.
"Lock the door behind me," Tristan said.