Inheritance ✔

Chapter 18 - Into the Pit

Renzo Hart's POV

The truth is, I didn't want to kill Gerald Mahoney.

I wanted to expose him. To drag him into the light by his throat and show the world exactly what kind of parasite had been nesting inside the Ashford legacy.

But some men didn't squirm when exposed.

They smiled.

And Mahoney? He was already grinning by the time I entered his hotel suite.

"Renzo Hart," he said, lifting his whiskey glass. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to show up."

I closed the door behind me, slow and controlled. I didn't bother to hide the gun holstered under my jacket. He saw it. Didn't flinch.

"I don't like traitors," I said.

"I know."

"I like traitors who smile even less."

He chuckled. "And I don't like lapdogs who think they're wolves."

I didn't respond.

Instead, I walked across the room, picked up a file from the table—my name typed neatly on the tab—and flipped it open.

Surveillance photos. One of me and Laurier in the Tower parking garage. Another—far more private—of her stepping out of the shower, only partially concealed by steam and shadow.

My pulse slowed.

"You've been watching her," I said flatly.

"Don't flatter yourself," Mahoney said. "I've been watching you."

I turned to face him, file still in hand.

"What's your endgame, Mahoney?"

He sipped his drink. "My endgame? Survival. Relevance. A golden parachute before the empire collapses. You think this thing ends with Laurier in power? She's the sacrificial lamb. You and I both know it."

"You leaked to Dagon."

He didn't deny it.

"And Clara?" I asked.

"A convenient pawn. One of many."

I stared at him for a long moment.

Then I smiled.

And pulled out the wire I'd hidden under my collar.

Mahoney's face drained of color.

"Security's had enough to nail you twice over," I said. "Let's make it three."

He lunged for the panic button under the bar.

Too late.

I was across the room in seconds, slamming his hand down on the marble countertop. He let out a sharp grunt as I twisted his wrist, then drove my fist hard into his gut. He collapsed, wheezing.

I leaned in close.

"I told you," I whispered, "I don't like traitors."

An hour later, Mahoney was in holding.

The internal security team had already begun erasing his access, pulling financials, and scrubbing his name from every document we could touch.

By sunrise, Gerald Mahoney no longer existed in the Ashford ecosystem.

But the damage?

That remained.

Laurier Ashford's POV

The office felt different without Mahoney.

Lighter. But not safer.

Like the smoke had cleared, but the fire was still smoldering somewhere below the surface.

Renzo returned that morning with bruised knuckles and a haunted look in his eyes. I didn't ask questions.

He told me enough with a nod.

It's done.

But before I could breathe, Mateo rushed in again.

"You need to see this."

Always the same line.

Always followed by worse news.

He set a tablet in front of me.

"Dagon just bought airtime."

"What?" I asked, dread curling like smoke in my lungs.

"He paid for a 90-second video on global business networks. Scheduled for noon. He used a proxy media company in Singapore, but the IP traces back to Manila."

"What kind of video?" Renzo asked, stepping forward.

Mateo hesitated. "We don't know. Yet."

But we had an hour before it aired.

And I knew Dagon.

Whatever it was, it wouldn't just be a message.

It would be a move.

We watched the video in the Tower's emergency screening room.

Renzo stood behind me, arms crossed. Mateo hovered near the feed controller. Iris clutched her phone like a rosary.

The video began.

Black screen. White serif text.

"The crown was never clean."

A beat of silence.

Then it cut to a series of edited clips—dramatic music overlayed with sound bites, images from Midas, footage of my father shaking hands with foreign arms dealers, then me—standing beside him at the ribbon-cutting of the Ashford Global Energy Hub five years ago.

A narrator spoke in a slow, cultured voice.

"For decades, the Ashford empire has buried its secrets beneath layers of money, power, and silence. But silence no longer protects you. Not anymore."

Then: footage of Mahoney being dragged from his hotel suite.

"This is the beginning of the end."

The screen cut to black.

And a final message lingered.

"Laurier Ashford: your father's sins are yours to carry now. Let's see how far you'll fall."

No branding. No sender.

But we knew who it was.

I stood there, still watching the blank screen, long after it ended.

Renzo moved beside me. "We need to hit back."

"No," I said quietly. "We need to change the game."

He looked at me. "How?"

I turned to face him. "Dagon's trying to ruin me with the past. Then let's force him to expose his."

Renzo's brow furrowed. "You want to flip the narrative."

"I want to flip the whole damn table."

He nodded slowly. "We'll need a bait. Something big."

"We'll give him something he can't resist."

Renzo leaned in, eyes locked on mine.

"And you're sure you're ready to do this?"

I didn't flinch.

"He wants to drag me into the pit, Renzo?"

I stepped forward.

"Then let's burn him in it."