Part 2 : The billionaire husband kicked his wife out to protect his baby. He didn't know he just handed his son to an assassin.

Chapter 27: The Catacombs

Beneath the polished marble of the New York Public Library lay a labyrinth of forgotten service tunnels and prohibition-era smuggling routes. The air was damp, reeking of mildew and ozone. Eleanor descended a spiral wrought-iron staircase, the heavy submachine gun tight against her shoulder.

"I've got his thermal signature, Mom," Leo’s voice echoed in her ear. "He’s moving fast, heading toward the 42nd Street subway tunnels. He has an armored train car waiting."

"Not on my watch," Eleanor muttered.

She rounded a corner and immediately met heavy suppressive fire. Bullets chewed the brickwork next to her face, raining red dust into her eyes. She dove behind a rusted boiler.

"Pinned down. North tunnel," she barked into the comms.

"Hold tight," Julian replied. "I left the roof. I'm entering through the subway grates behind them."

Eleanor peeked around the boiler. Four heavily armed Obsidian mercenaries were advancing down the corridor, their laser sights cutting through the darkness. She took a deep breath, checked her magazine, and calculated the angles. She didn't need to kill them all; she just needed to slow them down.

She rolled out from cover, firing short, controlled bursts. The lead mercenary dropped, clutching his knee. The second took a round to the chest plate, stumbling backward. But there were too many. They returned fire, pinning her back down. A bullet grazed her thigh, tearing through the velvet and biting into flesh. She hissed in pain.

Suddenly, the lights in the tunnel flickered and died. Pitch black.

"Leo?" Eleanor whispered.

"Hacked the grid," her son replied, a hint of pride in his voice. "You have thirty seconds of darkness. Go."

In the pitch black, the mercenaries panicked. Eleanor, relying on memory and instinct, moved silently along the wall. From the opposite end of the tunnel, the distinctive thwip-thwip of Julian's suppressed pistol echoed. Two more bodies hit the floor.

When the lights flickered back on, Julian was standing over the last mercenary, offering a hand to Eleanor. He looked at her blood-soaked dress. "You look terrible."

"You should see the other guys," she smirked, taking his hand.

They sprinted down the final stretch of the tunnel, bursting onto the abandoned subway platform just in time to see a sleek, matte-black train car roaring to life. Victor Sterling stood in the doorway, safely behind bulletproof glass. He raised a glass of Champagne in a mocking toast as the train began to move.