Chapter 2
Chapter Two
JOEL AND THE HOUSE OF CARDS
The Porters’ mansion, a bastion of New Boston’s elite, loomed over the cityscape like a declaration of our dominance. It stood tall and unyielding, its opulent spires impaling the sky, each window reflecting the glint of ambition and power. In the heart of this grandeur, we reigned supreme—three cousins bound by blood and fortune.
My two cousins, Sebastian and Braxton and I had gathered in the expansive living room, where crystal chandeliers threw prismatic patterns across the marble floors.
I shook my head. “Look at us. Kings in a world teetering on the brink.”
More like pawns in a cosmic chess game where the rules kept changing. And I was trying to hold onto my crown while the board crumbled beneath us. Funny how power felt so fragile when you were this close to losing it all.
Sebastian stood by the grand piano, his fingers idly touching the cool, polished surface. He was always the picture of sophistication, clad in a tailored suit, making him a dark, calming presence. His hair, neatly combed back, deep brown eyes, and a clean-shaven face. The gentle set of his jaw suggested a man born for contemplation.
“More like jesters if we don’t act fast,” Braxton retorted, his baritone voice cutting through the serenity of the room like a blade.
“Perhaps,” Sebastian nodded, his tone even, as if every word weighed for its full value.
I clenched my jaw. “Our legacy is at stake.”
Legacy. Such a grand word for what amounted to a house of cards we’d built on quicksand. But it was our house of cards, dammit, and I’d be damned if I let it topple without a fight.
Braxton lounged on a designer sofa, one leg tossed over the armrest, his sandy blond hair tousled as though he’d just come from riding the waves rather than corporate conquest. His attire—a casual blend of high-end fashion and careless ease—belied the sharpness of his mind. His shrewd brown eyes met mine and he wore a perpetual grin.
“Ah, legacy. Such a heavy word for such light pockets at the moment, cousin,” Braxton grinned.
“Light pockets?” I scoffed, pacing before them. “Thanks to Chad Shoemaker’s betrayal, we’re standing on the edge of ruin. Sold our Nant-bot tech to a rival group, he did—the bastard.”
The taste of bile rose in my throat as I thought of Shoemaker’s smug face. I’d love nothing more than to wipe that self-satisfied smirk off his mug with my fist. But violence wouldn’t solve this mess—not yet, anyway.
Sebastian shrugged, his expression solemn. “Betrayal is a bitter pill. Especially from someone we considered a partner.”
“More like a necessary evil,” I snapped, unable to hide my disdain. “And now, instead of holding the reins on military tech, we look like fools.”
I hated that we’d been outmaneuvered at our own game. It was like being beaten at chess by a pigeon. A very cunning, ruthless pigeon named Chad Shoemaker.
“Let’s not forget who put us in this chase,” Braxton interjected, his tone light but eyes sharp as flint. “Mr. Shoemaker played us well.”
“Played us too well, the asshole.” I huffed out a breath, clenching my fists. “If we don’t reclaim control of those Nant-bots, everything we’ve built will crumble. And I’ll be damned if I let that happen on my watch.”
“Nor on mine,” Sebastian said, a rare edge creeping into his usually calm voice. “But we must do this wisely. Our next move will define us—in more ways than one. Shoemaker is an asshole, for sure, but now he holds all the cards.”
“Then we snatch the deck right out of his hands,” I declared.
Still pacing the room, I caught my reflection in the ornate mirror above the piano. My green eyes, set in a face marked by brawls and sleepless nights, stared back at me. My black hair was spiked in its usual disarray. I was of average height with a muscular build, wearing a fitted shirt and jeans.
“Joel, we’re not barbarians,” Sebastian said, his tone chiding yet understanding. “We can’t just storm his fortress. There are...complexities.”
Not barbarians? Maybe he’d forgotten what business we were in. I clenched my fists, feeling the familiar calluses from years of fighting. This wasn’t some gentleman’s game - it was survival.
I scowled. “Complexities be damned! He took something valuable to us. So what if we take something valuable to him?”
The idea blazed through my mind, a wildfire of possibilities. Sure, it was risky, but when had playing it safe ever gotten us anywhere?
“Like what?” Braxton frowned.
I took a deep breath, steeling myself for their reactions. “Like…kidnapping Elizabeth Shoemaker, his daughter, to use as leverage.” The plan fell from my lips like a death sentence, heavy with implication and seriousness.
“Good heavens, Joel, she’s innocent in all of this!” Sebastian protested, his dark eyes troubled beneath furrowed brows.
Innocent? In our world? I nearly laughed.
“Is she?” I countered. “She’s Shoemaker’s daughter. She’s leverage. And right now, I’m not above playing dirty if it means protecting our interests.”
The familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through my veins. This was what I was made for—taking action when others hesitated.
Braxton shook his head, though his usual joviality was absent. “Using a young woman as a pawn. That’s a dark path, cousin.”
“Dark times call for dark measures,” I insisted, my pulse quickening at the thought of regaining control. “We’re at war, whether you like it or not. Shoemaker made his move; now we make ours.”
Sebastian ran a hand through his short, dark hair, his stance rigid with conflict. “I understand the stakes, Joel. But there’s a line—one we’ve never crossed before.”
Lines . Always with the lines. As if our enemies gave a damn about lines.
I stopped pacing, frustration boiling over. “Lines are for those who fear the edge.”
The room hummed with tension, each of us ensnared by the gravity of the choice before us. We had always played the game with cunning and calculation, but this...this was a move that could redefine us entirely.
“Should we vote on this? Because once decided, there’s no turning back,” Braxton said.
This wasn’t a democracy. And I’d be damned if I let our family fall because we were too scared to do what needed to be done.
I crossed my arms over my chest, locking eyes with each of them. “We do what’s necessary. For the family. For our future.”
Sebastian sighed. “I…I don't think this plan is a good idea. Kidnapping? Blackmail? This isn’t us. I want no part of it.”
His words stung more than I cared to admit. But I couldn’t let sentiment cloud my judgment. Not now. Not when everything was on the line.
“Sebastian, listen to me,” I said, my voice low and steady. “We’ve come too far to let Shoemaker’s betrayal go unanswered. We need leverage, and his daughter is it.”
The taste of victory was already on my tongue, metallic and sweet. Kidnapping Elizabeth Shoemaker was our golden ticket to putting that smug bastard in his place. It wasn’t personal, just business. At least, that’s what I told myself.
“Joel, we’re talking about an innocent girl, not some pawn in our corporate games,” Sebastian replied, his tone heavy with a weariness that suggested he was already fighting a losing battle within himself.
“Braxton, you’ve been quiet. Where do you stand?” I turned to my youngest cousin, who had been observing the exchange with a troubled look.
Braxton leaned back against the opulent sofa, a frown creasing his face. “I hate this as much as Seb does, but...Joel, you may have a point. If we don’t act now, we might not get another chance.”
I nodded. “Yes! That’s what I’ve been saying. We play nice, and we lose. And you both know how I hate losing.”
Losing. The word itself made my skin crawl. In this world of sharks and minnows, you either devour or get devoured. And I’d be damned if I let the Porters become someone else’s meal.
Sebastian grimaced, pacing now, his hands clasped behind his back. “But the ethics of it…the repercussions could be severe, not just for us but for others, too.”
I sat on an armchair facing the French doors. “Then we ensure she stays safe. It’s a temporary measure, nothing more.”
My fingers drummed against the armrest, a staccato beat of impatience. Sometimes I wondered if Sebastian’s moral compass was more of a curse than a blessing.
“Temporary or not, it’s crossing a line into territory that’s...” Sebastian paused, searching for the right word, “...dark. And once we cross it, we can’t uncross it.”
“Seb is right…” Braxton rubbed his chin. “How is this gonna look to other Elites?”
“Others already see us as sharks in a sea of minnows,” I shot back. “Let them fear us. At least they’ll respect the power we wield.” My posture stiffened.
This was why I was the enforcer, the one who got things done while others wrung their hands.
“Respect born from fear is brittle,” Sebastian murmured, almost to himself.
I leaned forward, my jaw clenching. “Brittle or not, it’s better than being seen as pushovers. We need to show Shoemaker we’re not to be trifted with.”
The tension in my body coiled tighter, like a spring ready to snap. Shoemaker’s smug face flashed through my mind, and I had to resist the urge to put my fist through the nearest wall. This wasn’t just about business anymore - it was personal.
“Trifted? Is that even a word?” Braxton chuckled, his attempt at lightening the mood falling flat.
“You know what I meant,” I growled, shooting him a glare.
Sometimes I wondered if Braxton took anything seriously. His constant jokes were like nails on a chalkboard when I was trying to focus. But I knew deep down he cared as much as the rest of us—he just had a different way of showing it.
Sebastian stopped pacing, his shoulders sagging. “We’re talking about kidnapping, Joel. It’s not just illegal, it’s morally reprehensible.”
“Oh, spare me the ethics lecture, Seb,” I scoffed. “Our family didn’t get to where we are by playing nice and following rules.”
Sebastian’s moral high ground act was starting to wear thin. Did he forget who we were, what our family stood for? We didn’t climb to the top by asking nicely and hoping for the best.
Braxton leaned forward, his usual grin replaced by a thoughtful frown. “What if we approach Elizabeth directly? Maybe she’d be willing to help us take down her old man voluntarily.”
I snorted. “Right, because daddy’s little girl is just itching to betray him. Get real, Brax.”
The idea was so ridiculous it almost made me laugh. Elizabeth Shoemaker, turning on her father? The princess of the elite, slumming it with us? Fat chance.
“You’d be surprised,” Sebastian said. “From what I’ve heard, their relationship is...strained, to put it mildly.”
“Strained like a bodybuilder’s jockstrap, you mean,” Braxton said, earning an eye roll from me and a reluctant smirk from Sebastian.
Elizabeth was the key to bringing down Shoemaker, I could feel it in my bones. We just needed to figure out how to play this right.
I stood up, pacing myself now. “Look, voluntary or not, we need Elizabeth. She’s our ace in the hole, our golden goose, our—”
“Ticket to a prison cell if we’re not careful,” Sebastian said.
“Only if we get caught.” My voice was low and serious.
The thrill of the challenge surged through me. This was what I lived for—the high-stakes game, the adrenaline rush of taking on someone like Shoemaker. And I’d be damned if I let Sebastian’s hesitation hold us back.
Braxton cleared his throat. “Guys, maybe we’re overthinking this. What if we just invite her to a party or something? Get her drunk, record some compromising stuff—”
“Jesus, Brax!” Sebastian exclaimed. “That’s not much better than kidnapping.”
The wheels in my head started turning. Braxton might be onto something here. A party, some carefully orchestrated “accidents” and it could work. And if it didn’t, well, we could always fall back on more...direct methods.
I paused, considering. “It’s sneakier, though. Less risk.”
Sebastian threw up his hands. “I can’t believe we’re even considering this. We’re supposed to be better than Shoemaker, not sink to his level.”
“Better?” I laughed bitterly. “Wake up, Seb. In this world, there’s no ‘better.’ There’s only who comes out on top.”
Sebastian could cling to his moral high ground all he wanted, but I knew the reality of our world. And I was ready to do whatever it took to make sure the Porter family stayed on top.
“Enough!” I slammed my hand on the mahogany side table, making the others jump. “We can debate morals until the sun burns out, but it won’t change our situation. We do this—for the family.”
The words tasted like ash in my mouth, but they were the only justification I had left. The only thing that could make this necessary evil palatable.
Sebastian met my gaze, his brown eyes reflecting a tempest of conflicting emotions. He was the thinker, the moral compass, but even he couldn’t deny the logic in my words. After what seemed like an eternity, he nodded slowly. “All right, Joel. But we do this carefully, methodically. No harm comes to Elizabeth.”
“Of course not. I’d never hurt a woman,” I said.
The words felt hollow even as I spoke them. Wasn’t kidnapping a form of harm in itself? But I pushed the thought away. There was no room for doubt now.
“And if things go south, we abort immediately. No exceptions,” Braxton added, locking eyes with mine.
“Understood,” I replied, knowing full well the risks involved.
“Then it’s settled,” Sebastian said with a heavy heart. “We move forward with the plan to kidnap Shoemaker’s daughter.”
As I looked at my cousins, their faces etched with determination and dread, I knew we were united in our decision, however reluctant, bound by family and ambition.
The weight of what we were about to do settled on my shoulders. Except I couldn’t show weakness now. And right now, the hardest choice was to ignore the voice in my head screaming that this was wrong.