THE GREAT DIVIDE
The parking garage was a cathedral of concrete and fluorescent hum—a stark contrast to the neon fever of the apartment above.
The air was damp, thick with the scent of oil and old rubber.
As the elevator doors hissed shut behind them, the silence pressed in, heavy enough that every footstep echoed like a threat.
Across the expanse of the garage, three blacked-out SUVs idled in formation, their headlights cutting clean lines through the gloom.
They weren't just vehicles. They were a message.
Massimo stepped forward first, his pace measured, controlled.
Beside him, Kelvin lingered like a shadow, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, but his eyes never still.
He wasn't watching the SUVs. He was watching everything else.
"Your father doesn't do things halfway," Kelvin said quietly.
"He doesn't believe in halfway," Massimo replied.
From the shadows near the service stairs, Kamsi emerged—fast, precise, already in motion before she fully stepped into the light.
At the same time, Clara and Syndy entered from the main lobby doors.
The three siblings locked eyes for a fraction of a second. That was enough.
The rear door of the lead SUV swung open. A man in a charcoal suit stepped out, tapping his earpiece once.
"Mr. Sterling. Ladies," he said. "We need you in the vehicles. Now."
Clara tightened her grip on Syndy's hand.
Syndy looked between the armed men and the SUVs, confusion flickering across her face.
"Clara… what is this?"
"Security," Clara said smoothly.
Massimo paused at the SUV door and turned. "You're not coming?"
Kelvin tilted his head slightly, a faint smile touching his lips. "I was never part of your convoy."
Massimo studied him, the cold light sharpening every unanswered question.
"Who are you?"
Kelvin stepped back, already dissolving into shadow.
"Someone who doesn't like how your rivals play. And tell your sister to stop trying to trace my IP. It's bad manners."
The lead guard cleared his throat. "Sir. We are on a clock."
Massimo got in. The door shut with a heavy, sealed thud.
The convoy moved immediately. No hesitation. No wasted motion.
They avoided the main roads entirely, cutting through service lanes, industrial corridors, and routes that didn't exist on public maps.
Inside the middle SUV, Clara sat beside Syndy.
The interior was silent, insulated, the outside world reduced to streaks of dim light through tinted glass.
"I'm sorry about the night," Clara said quietly.
Syndy shook her head, still staring at the partition.
"It's not that… I just didn't know your life was like this. Are you always in danger?"
Clara glanced down at her phone. "Not always," she said.
The lie came easily.
The SUV slowed as they approached the hostel gates. The driver flashed a precise sequence of high beams.
The gates opened instantly. As the vehicle stopped, Clara turned to her.
"Go inside. Lock your door. I'll text you tomorrow."
Syndy nodded quickly, relief softening her face. "Okay. Goodnight, Clara."
She stepped out. The guards didn't move—but their eyes tracked her until she disappeared inside.
Then the SUV surged forward again.
The convoy cut through the outskirts of the city. Clara pulled out her phone.
Clara: And Dad? What happens when we get home?
Massimo saw the message from the front vehicle. He didn't reply. He already knew silence meant something was coming.
Clara's phone vibrated.
Dad.
She answered immediately.
"Hello?"
"Change of plans,"Mr. Maxwell said. "Massimo returns home. You and Kamsi go to the lodge. Security stays with you."
Clara didn't answer immediately. The silence stretched—tight, suffocating.
"Yes, Dad," she said. The line went dead.
Clara typed quickly, her hands no longer steady.
Clara: Massimo, your dad called. He said you're going home. Kamsi and I are staying at the lodge.
Massimo: Why didn't he call me?
Clara: I don't know.
Kamsi: So Max is leaving?
Clara: Yes.
Massimo: Did he give a reason?
Clara: No.
The convoy slowed as it reached the lodge.
The lead SUV turned in. The second followed. The doors opened. Cool night air rushed in.
Clara and Kamsi stepped out. Massimo lowered his window from the front vehicle.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then he raised his hand slightly.
Clara forced a smile and waved back. "Be safe, Max!"
Kamsi stood beside her, silent. Then her composure cracked— just slightly.
A single tear slipped down her cheek. She didn't wipe it. Because she already understood: When Maxwell Sterling called someone home—something was seriously wrong.
The engines roared. The convoy pulled away. Clara and Kamsi stood still as the vehicles disappeared into the distance.
Inside the SUV, Massimo leaned back, eyes on the rearview mirror. The lodge faded. Then vanished.
The driver spoke without turning. "We will be at the airport in twenty minutes."
Massimo closed his eyes. This wasn't an extraction. It was repositioning. The rivals weren't circling anymore; they were moving.
And now—so was he.
He opened his phone, not to call his father, but to look at the group chat. The only place the three of them still existed together.
The party was over. The game was over. This was war.
And for the first time—he was walking into it alone.