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Chapter 6 - The Voice on the Line

Michael pressed the speaker button. The voice that echoed through the penthouse was dry, raspy, and filled with the arrogant casualness of a man accustomed to buying his way out of every obstruction.

""Michael Sterling,"" the voice said smoothly. ""I hear your private security team caused quite a scene in Sector Four this afternoon. My contractors are filing complaints with the metropolitan police department as we speak.""

""Your contractors attempted vehicular homicide against an elderly woman,"" Michael replied without a tremor of anger in his voice. ""We have high-definition footage from four angles, three eyewitness affidavits, and the driver is currently sitting in custody at the 12th precinct admitting that he was paid in cash from a shell corporation registered to your daughter's name.""

A prolonged silence settled over the speaker. When Harold Vance spoke again, the pleasant facade was gone, replaced by a razor-edged sneer.

""A street cook, Michael? You're risking a forty-million-dollar downtown joint venture over an old woman selling tamales on a dirty corner? Are you out of your mind?""

""She is not an old woman selling tamales,"" Julian spoke up, leaning over the phone. ""She is the sole deed-holder of Parcel 4-A. And as of four o’clock this afternoon, Sterling Brothers Capital has taken over as her exclusive legal trustees.""

A sharp intake of breath hissed through the receiver. ""You're bluffing. That charter expired thirty years ago.""

""Section 19, Clause C,"" Julian quoted instantly. ""Inherited title remains perpetually valid so long as commercial operations continue without uninterrupted cessation for more than forty-eight hours. Which means, Vance, if Maria Flores serves food from that plot within the next twenty-four hours, your foundation permits are permanently null and void.""

""Then she won't make it to that sidewalk tomorrow,"" Vance hissed, and the line went dead.

The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating. Maria looked between the two brothers, realizing the terrifying gravity of the game they were playing.

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""Forty-eight hours,"" Maria whispered. ""If I don't cook on that corner by tomorrow morning... the plot is forfeited?""

""Yes,"" Michael nodded grimly. ""And Vance's men will make sure that entire street is a war zone before dawn.""

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