Chapter 226 Going for a ride

Chapter 226 Going for a ride
They walked inside the sunlit, glass-walled lobby of the spa. The receptionist gasped, recognizing the billionaire and the popular Elisa Lee immediately, while the beauticians rushed forward to clear the VIP treatment room.

"Sit," Ridge told her gently, guiding her to a plush reclining chair by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that faced the bustling downtown avenue.

Elisa sat down, grumbling under her breath as the head beautician approached with a tray of organic facial oils and scrubs. "You are paying for every single luxury treatment they have on this menu, Lockhart. This is emotional blackmail."

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," Ridge said, leaning down to press a quick, lingering kiss to the top of her head.

Then, he straightened up, stepping back toward the glass doorway.

"Where are you going?" Elisa asked, pausing with her hands half-raised as the beautician unzipped her oversized hoodie.

"I have to grab something from the car. A charger, and... some paperwork," Ridge lied smoothly, his throat tightening. "I'll be right back. Don't move."

"Don't take too long, or I'm leaving you stranded!" Elisa called out, rolling her eyes as the beautician gently pulled the oversized black hoodie off her shoulders, exposing her vibrant red hair and her glowing, makeup-free face to the open room.

Ridge turned and walked out the glass doors, his hand sliding into his pocket to check the live audio feed connected to the bug in her jacket. He stepped out onto the sidewalk, walking twenty paces down the block, his eyes scanning the reflections in the storefront windows like a hawk.

He had set the stage. Now, all he had to do was wait for the wolf to smell the bait.

At the exact same moment, several miles away in a dimly lit, abandoned warehouse near the industrial docks, the atmosphere was thick with the smell of rust and bad intentions.

Vicenzo Ricardo Jordan operating under the name Rick Darco,prowled across the concrete floor like a caged panther, his fingers drumming a frantic, violent rhythm against the butt of a silenced pistol tucked into his waistband.

Standing near a makeshift table covered in maps and surveillance photos was Damien, his primary enforcer, adjusting a pair of night-vision binoculars.

"The DNA scheme at the mansion didn't work, Felix sent the message yesterday," Vicenzo reported, his voice echoing off the corrugated metal walls. "Lockhart intercepted the lab reports, and the domestic friction didn't break them the way we planned. The idiot actually managed to patch things up with her."

Damien stopped pacing. A dark, ugly sneer twisted his scarred face.

"Fools," Damien spat, his voice dropping into a harsh, venomous hiss. "They think a little wedding cake and a bouquet of flowers can protect them from what's coming. If we can't break them from the inside, we take what matters most. We hit him where it bleeds."

Vicenzo tapped the screen of his encrypted laptop, bringing up a live traffic camera feed linked to the downtown commercial district. "Well, Damien..….. it looks like luck is on our side today. Our scouts just flagged a high-priority visual on the private trackers. Lockhart’s wife is currently sitting completely exposed in a glass-walled VIP spa on Fifth Avenue."

Damien leaned over the laptop, his eyes widening as he watched the high-definition live stream. There she was,now Elisa Lockhart, sitting in the styling chair, her red hair catching the afternoon sunlight, completely unprotected while her billionaire husband had apparently stepped away to his car.

No heavy security inside the room. No guards blocking the glass doors. Just a sitting duck wrapped in a designer spa towel.

A slow, terrifying grin spread across Vicenzo’s face, showing his teeth like a wolf closing in on a wounded deer.

"It's time to act," Damien declared, grabbing his leather jacket off the back of the chair and sliding his arms through the sleeves with sharp, decisive jerks. "Lockhart thinks he owns this city? Let's show him what happens when someone walks right into his castle and steals his queen."

Vicenzo cocked his rifle, checking the magazine with a sharp clack. "Shall I ready the transport van?"

"Bring the van, bring the heavy-duty zip ties, and bring a closed-circuit jammer," Damien ordered, his eyes locked onto the live feed of Elisa laughing with the beautician through the glass window. "We are going to pick her up in broad daylight. Let’s move."

The two had met several years ago when Vicenzo came back after years in the mafia to avenge his father. Damien had said he was looking for someone with enough grudge against the Lockharts to do anything, they had stolen the one he loved the most and their cases were similar so,they could work together. Later on,he had introduced him to Felix, Jason and people who held grudge against the Lockharts.  Damien had gathered them all on purpose for a massive strike on the Lockharts. 

Back on Fifth Avenue, the afternoon sun filtered softly through the massive glass windows of Aura spa.

Elisa was leaning back in the reclining chair, letting out a relaxed sigh as the beautician smoothed a soothing lavender clay mask across her forehead. The tension from the morning's chaos,the burnt kitchen, the secret DNA test, the Italian bodyguard seemed to finally melt away under the gentle pressure of the massage.

"How does that feel, Mrs. Lockhart?" the beautician asked politely.

"Amazing," Elisa murmured with her eyes closed. "Honestly, if my husband didn't drag me here just to insult my skin, I'd probably give him a medal."

Suddenly, a sharp, collective gasp echoed through the open-plan lobby outside the treatment room.

Elisa opened her eyes, frowning. "What's going on out there?"

Before the beautician could answer, the front glass doors of the spa shattered with a deafening, explosive crash.

CRASH!

Screams erupted from the reception desk as three masked men in gear burst into the luxury establishment, brandishing heavy submachine guns with silencers attached. Customers scattered in terror, diving behind massage tables and scrambling toward the back exits as the security glass rained down across the marble floor.

Elisa sat bolt upright, her heart slamming against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Before she could even scream, the heavy glass door of her VIP treatment room was kicked wide open with a violent thud.

Standing in the doorway, lowering a black ski mask just enough to reveal a cold, scarred smirk, was Rick Darco—Vicenzo.

"Well, well, well," Vicenzo drawled, stepping into the room with deliberate, predatory slowness, his dark eyes locking onto Elisa with chilling amusement. "If it isn't the billionaire's prized possession. You look entirely too comfortable, my dear."

Elisa scrambled backward off the reclining chair, her breath catching in her throat, her hands trembling as she stared at the menacing figure blocking her only exit. "Who... who the hell are you?"

"Just an old friend of your husband's," Vicenzo smiled coldly, stepping closer and pulling a pair of heavy tactical zip ties from his jacket pocket. "Stand up. We're going for a ride."