Three Hitmen Cornered Female CEO in the Parking Garage—Until a Single Dad Stepped from the Shadows скачать в хорошем качестве

Three Hitmen Cornered Female CEO in the Parking Garage—Until a Single Dad Stepped from the Shadows

The fluorescent lights flickered in the underground parking garage as three shadows closed in on their target. Lylia Chambers, CEO of Titancore Industries, pressed her back against the cold concrete pillar, designer heels scraping against oil-stained pavement. The hitmen moved with practiced precision—one blocking the exit, two flanking her Mercedes. Her white silk blouse seemed to glow under the harsh lighting, making her an easy mark in the dim garage. But they hadn't noticed the janitor. Seth Newman had been emptying trash cans in the corner, invisible in his gray coveralls, just another face the executives never saw. His daughter's laughter still echoed in his mind from their morning goodbye. He'd promised her pancakes for dinner. Simple. Safe. Normal. That life was about to shatter. Because the man pushing a mop cart wasn't just a janitor. And the hands gripping that wooden handle had once belonged to someone very different. Someone dangerous. The first hitman lunged. Seth moved. The underground parking garage of the Helix Tower smelled like motor oil and stale exhaust. Seth Newman's hands moved methodically across the push broom, sweeping cigarette butts and coffee cups into neat piles. The fluorescent tubes overhead buzzed and flickered, casting harsh shadows between the rows of luxury sedans and SUVs that belonged to people who never looked twice at the man in gray coveralls. He preferred it that way. At 36, Seth had perfected the art of invisibility. His tall frame moved with an economy of motion that suggested discipline, though most people only saw the janitorial uniform and the weathered hands gripping cleaning tools. His dark hair was cut short, practical, and his face carried the kind of lines that came from experiences he never discussed. To the executives who rushed past him each day, he was part of the building's infrastructure, as unremarkable as the concrete pillars supporting the structure above. But tonight, as Seth made his rounds through the basement level, something felt wrong. The sensation started as a prickle at the base of his skull, an old instinct he'd tried to bury along with his former life. He paused near a support column, apparently adjusting his cleaning cart, while his eyes swept the garage with practiced efficiency. Three men had entered through the service entrance, their movements too coordinated, too purposeful. They weren't security. They weren't maintenance. And they definitely weren't supposed to be here.