Chapter 2

"This chart," Elara said, tapping the paper, "it shows a life path that doesn't align with suicide, Mr. Thorne, it's… discordant."

She chose her words carefully, she wasn' t an astrologer, not in the way these rich folks understood it, but her family' s art taught her to read the energies, the patterns.

This pattern was a lie.

"I need to see him, see the room, before I can confirm the ritual's viability under these… new parameters."

She needed to see what she was really dealing with.

Marcus Thorne' s composure finally cracked, just a little.

"The room… it's not pleasant, Ms. Vance."

He looked away, towards a heavily carved door down the hall.

"He was… violent, with himself."

The words were heavy, meant to shock, to justify the high price, the secrecy.

"That's why the cleanup is so critical, and why your discretion is paramount."

He was trying to control the narrative, even with her.

"The conditions you describe," Elara stated, her voice cool, "the biohazard involved in such a scene, that warrants an additional hazard fee, five million."

Marcus Thorne' s eyes narrowed, "You' re pushing your luck, Ms. Vance, are you a cleaner or some kind of extortionist?"

His voice was low, dangerous.

Elara met his gaze, "I'm a professional, Mr. Thorne, one who understands the risks and the value of specialized services, my family has been doing this for generations, though our methods evolve."

She wouldn't back down, not now.

He was testing her, and she was testing him right back.

"Our profession isn't static, Mr. Thorne," Elara explained, her tone even.

"My grandmother focuses on the spiritual, guiding souls, but in the city, needs are different, more… practical."

She gestured vaguely, "Disposal, sanitation, these are modern necessities for certain clients, discretion has a price, complex situations have a higher price."

He stared at her, then gave a curt nod.

"Fine, another five million, but you deliver, Ms. Vance, you deliver that grandson."

The greed in his eyes was chilling.

"My phone," Marcus Thorne' s head of security, a man built like a small mountain, held out his hand.

"Standard procedure, Ms. Vance, no electronics in the room, for privacy."

Thorne added, "Yours and ours."

Elara handed it over without argument, she expected this.

She had other tools, older tools.

The mansion was a fortress, cameras everywhere, she knew.

This room, however, would be her domain, temporarily.

"Once I enter that room, Mr. Thorne," Elara said, her voice firm, "no one, and I mean no one, is to disturb me, no interruptions, no attempts to listen or watch, the process is delicate, interference could ruin everything."

She looked from him to his silent security chief.

"Do you understand? The slightest deviation could render the ritual useless, or worse, have unintended consequences for the lineage."

Marcus Thorne nodded, "You have my word, do what you need to do."

His eyes, however, still held a flicker of suspicion, of calculation.

"One last thing, Mr. Thorne," Elara said, her hand on the doorknob of the room.

"The birth chart, it still bothers me, if the foundations are wrong, the entire structure can collapse."

He waved a dismissive hand, "Astrology, superstition, just get it done, Ms. Vance, I' m paying you for results, not theories."

His impatience was clear.

He wanted his heir, and he wanted this problem to disappear.

Elara said nothing more, just turned the knob and pushed the door open.