I stared at the warehouse address on my phone screen. Pier 47. One hour.
Like hell I was walking into that trap.
Instead, I turned and headed back toward the Bennett estate. If Grace wanted to see me, she could see me on my terms. No more games. No more manipulation.
The massive iron gates of the Bennett compound loomed ahead, flanked by security cameras and motion sensors. Old money didn't just buy privacy. It bought fortresses.
I pressed the intercom button.
"State your business," came a bored voice.
"Noah Lancaster. I'm here to see Mrs. Bennett."
A pause. Then: "She's expecting you at Pier 47."
"Tell her I'm here. Now."
Another pause, longer this time. "One moment."
The gates buzzed open with a mechanical groan.
I walked up the cobblestone driveway, past manicured hedges and marble fountains that probably cost more than most people's houses. The Bennett estate sprawled across three acres of prime Manhattan real estate, a monument to generational wealth and inherited arrogance.
The front door opened before I could knock.
"Well, well." Liam stepped out, his designer suit replaced by dark jeans and a black sweater. "Look who decided to show up after all."
"Where's your grandmother?"
"Waiting in the study. But first, we need to have a little chat."
"We already chatted in your car."
"That was before I had time to think about the lies you told me."
He stepped closer. I could smell expensive cologne mixed with something else. Alcohol.
"You've been drinking."
"Liquid courage." His smile was ugly. "Amazing how clear everything becomes after a few shots of whiskey."
"And what exactly became clear?"
"That you're a lying, cheating piece of garbage who needs to be put in his place."
Liam's right hand moved toward his jacket pocket. I tensed, ready to dodge whatever he might pull.
"Three years," he continued. "Three years of watching you play the victim. Poor Noah. Unloved Noah. Misunderstood Noah."
"I never asked for your pity."
"No, you just took our money. Lived in our house. Ate our food. Fucked our cousin."
His hand emerged from his pocket holding brass knuckles.
"And the whole time, you were laughing at us behind our backs."
I almost smiled. After three years of psychological torture, Liam thought brass knuckles would intimidate me.
"Put those away before you hurt yourself."
"Hurt myself?" He slipped the brass knuckles over his fingers. "I'm not the one who's about to get hurt."
He swung at my face. Slow. Telegraphed. Sloppy.
I stepped aside and watched his fist whistle past my ear.
His momentum carried him forward. I grabbed his wrist and twisted. The brass knuckles clattered onto the cobblestones.
"What the hell?" Liam stared at his empty hand.
"First lesson in fighting. Don't announce your intentions."
I released his wrist and stepped back.
"How did you—"
"Second lesson. Stay sober."
Liam's face flushed red. "You got lucky."
He came at me again, this time with both fists. Wild haymakers that would have knocked out an average man.
I wasn't average.
I ducked under his right cross and drove my elbow into his ribs. He gasped and stumbled backward.
"Third lesson. Protect your body."
"Stop playing with me!"
Liam reached behind his back and pulled out a switchblade. The steel gleamed under the porch lights.
"Now we're talking the same language."
He lunged forward, slashing at my chest. I leaned back, feeling the blade slice through the air inches from my shirt.
"Stand still, you coward!"
Another wild swing. This time I caught his wrist and squeezed until he cried out.
"Fourth lesson. Never pull a weapon unless you're prepared to lose it."
I twisted his arm behind his back and applied pressure to his wrist. The knife dropped to the ground.
"Let me go!"
Instead, I increased the pressure until he dropped to his knees.
"Here's what's going to happen," I said quietly. "You're going to walk into that house and deliver a message to your grandmother."
"I'm not your messenger boy!"
I applied more pressure. He yelped.
"Tell her that Noah Lancaster is no longer her dog to be ordered around. Tell her that the next time she wants to see me, she can ask politely."
"She'll kill you for this!"
"Will she?"
I released his arm and stepped back. Liam collapsed onto the cobblestones, cradling his twisted wrist.
"Tell her something else."
"What?"
"Tell her that her precious granddaughter is a lying whore who's been cheating on me for months."
Liam tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't support him. "You can't talk about Chloe that way!"
"I can talk about her any way I want. I'm her husband."
"Not for long!"
"You're right about that. By tomorrow, I'll be free of this entire toxic family."
I turned and walked back toward the gates.
"Where are you going?" Liam called after me.
"Home. To pack."
"Grandmother won't let you leave!"
I paused at the gate and looked back at him. He was still kneeling on the cobblestones, looking pathetic and defeated.
"Your grandmother doesn't own me, Liam. None of you do."
"We gave you everything!"
"You gave me nothing but misery and contempt."
The gates buzzed open as I approached. Motion sensors, probably triggered by my exit.
"This isn't over!" Liam shouted from behind me.
I didn't bother responding. It was over. At least for me.
My phone buzzed as I reached the street. Another text from the unknown number: *Missed your appointment at the warehouse. That's going to cost you extra.*
I deleted the message and kept walking.
Twenty minutes later, I climbed the stairs to my small apartment above the Chinese restaurant. The familiar smell of sesame oil and garlic filled the narrow hallway.
Home sweet home. For one more night.
I unlocked my door and stepped inside. The apartment was dark, exactly as I'd left it that morning. One bedroom, one bathroom, a kitchenette, and a living room barely large enough for a couch and television.
Tomorrow, I would leave all of this behind.
Tomorrow, Noah Lancaster would disappear forever.
I was pulling clothes from my closet when I heard footsteps in the hallway outside. Heavy footsteps. Two sets.
A knock on my door. Three sharp raps.
"Noah Lancaster?"
I didn't recognize the voice. Deep. Rough. Professional.
"Yeah?"
"Need to have a word with you."
I approached the door but didn't open it. "About what?"
"About your attendance at a certain birthday party tomorrow night."
Grace's enforcers. That was fast.
"I already declined the invitation."
"Mrs. Bennett doesn't accept declines."
"She's going to have to this time."
A different voice spoke up. Younger. Cockier. "Open the door, kid. Let's do this the easy way."
"I'm comfortable talking through the door."
"We're not."
Something heavy slammed against the door. The frame shook but held.
"Last chance," the first voice called. "Open up, or we'll open it for you."
I looked around my apartment. No back exit. No fire escape. Just a window that faced a twenty-foot drop onto concrete.
Another slam against the door. This time I heard wood crack.
I grabbed my baseball bat from the closet and positioned myself beside the door.
The third impact split the frame. The door swung open, revealing two large men in dark suits. Both were built like linebackers, with the kind of muscle that came from years of intimidating people for money.
The first man had tattoos crawling up his neck. Dragon designs mixed with Chinese characters.
The second was younger but bigger, with scarred knuckles and cold eyes.
"There he is." Tattoo Neck smiled. "Noah Lancaster. You're a hard man to track down."
"Not hard enough, apparently."
"Mrs. Bennett sends her regards. And an invitation."
"Tell Mrs. Bennett I'm busy tomorrow night."
Scarred Knuckles laughed. "Busy? Doing what? Delivering Chinese food?"
"That's exactly what I'll be doing. It's my job."
"Not anymore," Tattoo Neck said. "You're coming with us."
"Am I under arrest?"
"Nope. This is what you might call a friendly escort service."
"And if I refuse?"
The two men exchanged glances.
"Well," Tattoo Neck said slowly, "seems like you want to do this the hard way!"