My Milf Conqueror System novel Chapter 135

Chapter 135: The Ghost Print

[Ethan’s POV]

"We can’t just cut someone’s hand off, Ethan," Claire said, staring at me across the small wooden table of our Zurich safehouse.

"I wasn’t going to suggest amputation," I said, sliding the loaded magazine into my Glock. "But the private elevators at Sterling & Cross use sub-dermal optical scanners. They don’t just read the fingerprint; they read the blood flow beneath the skin. A piece of tape with a lifted print won’t work. We need a live biometric signature."

"Which means we need a hostage," Claire realized, her brow furrowing. "Someone with Level-5 executive clearance who can walk us right past the lobby guards and into the elevator."

"Exactly," I said, pulling up the dossiers on Claire’s tablet. "Isabella’s inner circle is in chaos after the Hofburg Palace attack. But the debt transfer is happening at noon today. She has to send a proxy to sign the paperwork and defend her assets."

Claire scrolled through the list of Isabella’s surviving lieutenants. She stopped on a photograph of a sharp-featured, arrogant-looking man in his late forties.

"Heinrich Kessler," Claire said. "He’s Isabella’s chief financial officer for her European holdings. He’s a Swiss national, operates exclusively out of Zurich, and he wasn’t at the gala in Vienna. He’s her most trusted money man."

"Does he have clearance at the bank?" I asked.

"He’s a senior account holder," Claire confirmed. "He can bypass the main security checkpoints."

I checked my watch. It was 8:00 AM. We had four hours before Jake walked into that bank and triggered a war with Varga.

"Where is Kessler right now?" I asked.

"According to his public itinerary, he has a standing reservation at a private bathhouse and spa in the financial district every morning at nine," Claire said, her fingers flying across the tablet. "It’s highly exclusive. No cell phones, no bodyguards allowed inside the steam rooms."

"Perfect," I said, grabbing my canvas jacket. "You stay here and coordinate with Nia. Make sure that cyber-attack hits Isabella’s compound at exactly 11:55 AM. I’m going to the spa."

"Ethan," Claire called out as I reached the door. She walked over, her eyes dropping to my stitched shoulder. "Kessler might not have bodyguards inside the steam room, but Varga’s men will be watching the perimeter. If you get made..."

"I won’t," I promised, giving her a reassuring nod. "I’ll be back in an hour. Have the suits ready."

The morning air in Zurich was bitterly cold, the sky a pale, overcast gray. I took a tram into the heart of the financial district, blending in with the morning rush of bankers and corporate lawyers.

The Therme Baur, Kessler’s preferred spa, was an elegant, understated building tucked away on a quiet side street. Two massive men in tailored suits stood near the entrance—Isabella’s PMCs, keeping watch.

I didn’t try the front door. I walked down the adjacent alley, found the service entrance used for laundry deliveries, and picked the lock with my titanium pry bar.

I slipped inside, navigating the labyrinth of tiled hallways until I found the men’s locker room. I quickly stripped off my street clothes, wrapped a thick white towel around my waist, and concealed my ceramic push-dagger inside the folds of the terrycloth.

The steam room was a massive, dimly lit chamber made of dark slate and thick, suffocating clouds of eucalyptus-scented steam. Visibility was less than five feet.

I stepped inside, the intense heat immediately aggravating the fresh stitches in my shoulder. I moved silently through the mist, scanning the stone benches.

There were three other men in the room. Two were older, overweight bankers discussing interest rates in hushed German.

The third man was sitting alone in the far corner, his eyes closed, a cold towel draped over his forehead. Sharp features. Arrogant posture. Heinrich Kessler.

I sat down on the bench next to him, the ceramic dagger resting against my thigh under the towel.

I waited for ten minutes until the two older bankers finally stood up and left the steam room. The heavy glass door clicked shut behind them.

We were alone.

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