Chapter 4

In the penthouse suite of the Ritz-Carlton in downtown Philadelphia, Giovanni Morton stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. The city lights spread out beneath him like a grid of crushed diamonds.

He rolled a heavy silver coin across his knuckles. The metal bit into his skin, a physical anchor for his racing mind.

The heavy oak door clicked open. His assistant, Ezio Simon, stepped into the room, dropping a thick file onto the glass desk.

"Mr. Morton," Ezio said, his voice tight. "The leads on 'The Surgeon' are still cold. We only know he operates occasionally in Philly, but he never shows his face."

Giovanni didn't turn around. His grip on the coin tightened until his knuckles turned white.

"Keep looking," Giovanni's voice was a low rumble in his chest. "My grandfather's condition won't wait."

Ezio nodded sharply. "Yes, sir. Also, Mr. Sterling Van Doren called. He invited you to the MK Auction House evening session tomorrow. He said there's something you'll want to see."

Giovanni finally turned. He slammed the silver coin flat onto the glass desk. The sharp clack echoed in the large room.

"An auction?" Giovanni scoffed. "I have no interest in whatever trinket he's peddling. But..." He paused, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked back out at the city. "Maybe Philadelphia has some unexpected surprises hiding in the crowd."

Ezio understood instantly. "I'll make the arrangements."

The next afternoon, inside the Bradshaw estate, Brooklyn stood in front of her full-length mirror.

She pulled her long, dark hair back, tying it into a tight, severe knot with a silk scarf. She stripped off the cheap denim jacket and slipped into a tailored, jet-black trench coat. The sharp cut of the fabric transformed her posture, erasing the "country bumpkin" and leaving behind a cold, untouchable silhouette.

She reached into the pocket and felt the heavy, cold edge of the black card. She checked the encrypted entry pass on her phone.

Her phone vibrated. Garret.

Car is ready. Parked on the dirt road behind the estate.

Ten minutes, she typed back.

She took one last look in the mirror. Her eyes were flat, calculating. She slipped out of her room, moving like a ghost down the back staircase, completely bypassing the staff and her family.

The damp evening air hit her as she walked down the dirt path. A nondescript grey sedan idled in the shadows of the trees.

Brooklyn opened the back door and slid onto the leather seat. Garret reached over the console, handing her a sleek glasses case.

"Boss. For the disguise," Garret said. "You're registered under the alias 'Mr. B's private representative'."

Brooklyn pulled out a pair of gold-rimmed, clear-lens glasses and slid them onto her face. The frames instantly sharpened her features, giving her an academic, deeply unapproachable aura.

"Let's go," she ordered.

The grey sedan merged onto the highway heading into the city. At a major intersection, the light turned red.

A massive, custom black SUV pulled up in the lane right next to them.

Inside the SUV, Giovanni leaned his head against the tinted glass, his eyes closed, his fingers tapping a relentless rhythm on his knee. His mind was consumed with finding The Surgeon.

In the grey sedan, Brooklyn stared blankly out the window, her mind calculating the estimated value of the antique emerald.

For three seconds, the two cars sat side-by-side. The light turned green. The SUV surged forward, turning left. The sedan went straight.

Thirty minutes later, the MK Auction House was a sea of flashing cameras and luxury vehicles.

Giovanni stepped out of his SUV, flanked by Ezio and Sterling. The valets scrambled to clear the path as they walked straight through the VIP entrance, the air thick with the smell of expensive cigars and perfume.

Five minutes later, Brooklyn walked through the general admission doors. Her black trench coat blended into the shadows. The gold-rimmed glasses obscured her eyes. She moved silently, slipping through the crowd unnoticed.

Inside the massive auction hall, Giovanni was escorted to the front row, sinking into a plush velvet chair. Sterling leaned in, whispering about the lots.

Brooklyn found a seat in the very back corner, shrouded in the dim lighting. She opened her catalog, her eyes immediately finding the emerald.

The auctioneer took the stage. The hammer slammed down. The room buzzed with adrenaline.

Several lots went by. Millions of dollars were thrown around like pocket change. Giovanni looked bored, his jaw set in a hard line.

Then, the lights dimmed. A single spotlight hit the pedestal on the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our second-to-last lot," the auctioneer announced, his voice trembling slightly. "A flawless, unmounted antique emerald."

The deep, mesmerizing green light fractured across the room. Giovanni's posture instantly changed. He sat up straight, his eyes locking onto the stone.

Sterling leaned over. "That emerald... they say it belonged to European royalty. Giovanni, your mother loved emeralds..."

A muscle feathered in Giovanni's jaw. The memory hit him, but it was immediately eclipsed by a sharper, colder calculation. Intel suggested that 'The Surgeon' had a noted obsession with unmounted antique emeralds. Securing this stone wasn't just a tribute; it was the ultimate bait to draw the ghost out of hiding. His eyes hardened with absolute determination. He raised his numbered paddle.

"Five million," Giovanni's voice boomed through the hall.

The room gasped. He had just doubled the starting bid in one breath. The sheer dominance in his voice made three other bidders immediately lower their paddles.

The auctioneer smiled widely. "Five million to Mr. Morton! Do I hear-"

"Ten million."

The voice was calm, feminine, and cold as ice. It cut through the heavy silence of the room from the far back corner.

Every head in the room whipped around. Giovanni turned his head slowly.

Through the dim light, he saw her. A slender figure wrapped in a black trench coat, gold-rimmed glasses catching the faint light. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking straight at the stage.

Giovanni's heart gave a strange, heavy thump. He narrowed his eyes, a dangerous smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Interesting," he murmured.

He raised his paddle again, his eyes never leaving the girl in the back.

"Twenty million."