Page 94 of Sinful Obsession

Stacks of cash—crisp, banded bills in multiple currencies—towered like skyscrapers, glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights.

Gold bars, polished to a mirror shine, were piled in precise rows, their weight seeming to anchor the room itself.

Jewels—diamonds, emeralds, sapphires—sparkled in velvet-lined cases, catching the light like stars trapped underground.

“It’s impossible to spend this in a lifetime,” I whispered, my voice echoing in the vast chamber, my eyes wide with shock.

Cassian, standing beside me, his black coat dusted with the vault’s grit, chuckled softly. “Ten lifetimes.”

I laughed, the sound shaky as I stepped forward, my fingers brushing the cool, smooth surface of a gold bar, its weight grounding me.

I lifted a stack of cash, the bills crisp against my skin, their faint ink scent mingling with the vault’s metallic tang. “How do I move all this to Russia?”

Cassian leaned against a stack, his gray eyes steady. “Two options. We can transfer it gradually—wire transfers, offshore accounts—but it’ll take years, and no bank can handle this volume without scrutiny. Or...” He paused, his voice lowering. “You go after your father, strip him of his title, and take over as Grayson mafia boss. You’d have no reason to run or hide anymore.”

He nodded toward a steel table in the corner, where a stack of files sat, their edges worn but pristine.

I crossed the room, my boots clicking on the concrete, and opened the top folder.

Pages listed names—over a thousand—each with contact details, ranks, and loyalties, all pledged to the Grayson heir who unlocked the vault.

My grandfather’s design, a legacy to ensure his chosen successor could seize power.

My heart raced, ambition flaring alongside fear.

This was my goal—to prove to my father that a woman could rule, that I was stronger than he ever believed.

“Will you help me?” I asked, turning to Cassian.

He laughed, a rich sound that echoed in the vault. “You’ve got enough help, Charlotte. You don’t need me.” He gestured to the files. “That’s an army waiting for your command.”

I nodded, my resolve hardening.

I couldn’t keep running, not with Asher and Aria.

I pulled out my phone, dialing the first three names on the list—Anthony Russo, Elena Volkov, and Marcus Kane—top lieutenants marked as my grandfather’s most trusted.

The line connected, and a gruff voice answered.

“Russo,” the man said, his tone cautious.

“This is Charlotte Grayson,” I said, my voice steady despite my racing pulse. “I’m calling from the Grayson vault.”

A pause, then respect flooded his voice. “Boss. We’ve been waiting. The signal’s clear—you’ve unlocked it.”

Elena and Marcus echoed his deference, their voices crackling with loyalty as they confirmed their readiness to mobilize.

I hung up, my hands trembling with the weight of what I’d set in motion.

Cassian watched me, his expression unreadable but proud.

We waited in the vault’s cold silence, the hum of electricity a constant reminder of the stakes.

Two hours later, the distant thrum of helicopter blades reverberated through the concrete, growing louder until it shook the walls.

“The men are here,” Cassian said, his voice calm but alert.

We emerged into the night, the New York skyline a jagged silhouette against the stars.