A police officer, following closely behind Lucia, approached Martin with an expression that was as stern as his words.
"Sir, I'll need you to come with us to the precinct," the officer stated, his tone brokering no argument. "We'll need a statement from you regarding what happened here."
Before Martin could respond, **Lucia's voice** cut through the tense air, sharp and authoritative. "Absolutely not. This was clearly an incident of self-defense, and you have everything you need from the **security cameras**." Her eyes flashed with anger as she stared down the officer.
The policeman frowned, clearly unaccustomed to being challenged so openly. "Miss, it's standard procedure. He'll just need to come down to—"
Lucia didn't let him finish. "If you want Martin to go anywhere, you'll need to come back with a **warrant**. I suggest you go review the footage and speak to your superiors before trying to pull this nonsense." Her tone was firm, brooking no argument.
The officer's frown deepened, and his eyes narrowed as he shifted his gaze between Martin and Lucia. "This isn't how the law works, ma'am. He needs to—"
"I'm not going to repeat myself," Lucia interrupted again, folding her arms, her gaze icy. "You want to bring him in? **Get a warrant**. Until then, he's not going anywhere."
Martin stood silently, observing the exchange. He didn't see why he couldn't just go to the police station and clear things up. After all, it was self-defense, wasn't it?
"I don't see why we can't just go down and clear this up, Lucia," Martin finally said, his voice calm but questioning.
Lucia shot him a **glare** so fierce it made him pause. "You're not going to the police station," she said through gritted teeth. "Do you have any idea what could happen to you in there?"
Martin raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Lucia turned back to the officer, her expression unyielding. "Go on, then. Get your warrant," she snapped, and with a dark look, the officer could only mutter something under his breath before retreating to his squad car, clearly displeased with how the situation had unfolded.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Martin turned back to Lucia, frowning. "Why are you so adamant about this? It's just a statement. I didn't do anything wrong."
Lucia sighed, rubbing her temples as if the weight of the situation was finally settling on her. "Martin, you don't understand. When someone reaches a certain **level of wealth and influence**, the law isn't always what it seems."
Martin blinked, confused. "What does that even mean?"
"It means," Lucia said quietly, her voice dropping, "that they could keep you in a cell for **two weeks**. They wouldn't charge you, wouldn't formally accuse you of anything. Just... keep you locked up."
Martin's eyes widened. "But why? It's self-defense!"
Lucia nodded. "Yes, it is. But think about it. If you, the **Chairman of Eclipse Acquisitions**, get detained—even without charges—it'll ruin your **reputation**. No one will want to do business with us. It'll be over before we've even started."
Martin felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't about the fight. The **ambush** in the parking lot wasn't the true trap—it was the legal ramifications that followed. They weren't just after Martin. They were after Lucia. **After the Cross family**. And Martin was the weak link.
Lucia's face softened with **apology**. "I think... this isn't just about you. This is about me, and the Cross name. They can't attack me directly, so they're going after you. **Indirectly**."
Martin's mind raced. He hadn't thought about it like that, but now it made sense. It was a strategic play—one designed to **cripple the company** before it even got off the ground.
Lucia took a step closer, her expression serious. "Come back to my family's estate. It'll be safer. I don't know if this was the last of them."
But Martin shook his head. "No. I can handle this on my own. Just... send the head butler to the hospital. I'll take care of the rest."
Lucia looked worried, but Martin's **determination** was clear. He had no intention of dragging anyone else into this, and now that he knew what was at stake, he wasn't going to let anyone use him as a pawn.
"Are you sure?" Lucia asked, her voice soft.
"I'm sure," Martin replied. "I understand my position now. They won't catch me off guard again. No matter how many they send, I can handle it. And even if they use **firearms**... I'll manage."
Lucia hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, but she bit her lip and nodded. "Alright. But be careful."
Martin gave her a reassuring nod, then turned away, walking back toward his car. He paused briefly to pick up his **jacket** off the ground, then continued to the driver's seat.
As he drove out of the underground parking lot, Martin's mind was already racing with thoughts of **what's next**. He would head back to his **studio apartment**, for now. Until this mess was cleared up, he didn't want to risk implicating more innocent people, like the head butler.
He also needed to send a message to his friends, telling them to stay away from the apartment for the time being. It was safer that way.
With those thoughts in mind, Martin left the parking lot, driving through the city as the sun began to dip below the horizon.
Martin drove through the city streets, his mind swirling with the events of the day. After everything that had happened, it only made sense to cancel the dinner with Lucia and her mother.
He wasn't in the right headspace to sit down for a polite family dinner, especially after nearly being ambushed in a parking lot by a gang of thugs. He needed time to process everything.
The sun had fully set by the time he pulled up outside his studio apartment. The familiar old building loomed in front of him, its worn facade comforting in a way.
He hadn't bothered to hide his tracks after leaving Horizons Business Complex, knowing full well that anyone interested could easily trace him back to this place.
But he wasn't hiding. He didn't feel the need to.
Martin entered his apartment, the silence enveloping him as he closed the door behind him. He locked it for good measure, though he doubted that would stop anyone determined enough.
For now, he just wanted some space to think.
He moved around the apartment, shifting the table and furniture to the edges of the room, creating an open space in the center.
His body still buzzed with leftover adrenaline from the fight in the parking lot, and he couldn't shake the need to be ready for whatever came next.
He stripped down to a tank-top and denim pants, tossing his dress shirt and jacket aside. The room was dimly lit by the streetlights filtering through the window, casting long shadows across the floor.
Martin sat down on the worn couch, his muscles finally relaxing as he pulled out a cigarette from the pack the butler had prepared for him earlier.
Lighting it with a flick of his lighter, Martin took a slow, deep drag, the smoke curling in the air above him. The taste was harsh, but it helped steady his racing thoughts.
He leaned back, exhaling the smoke in a long sigh. The quiet of the room was soothing in its own way, but his mind was anything but calm.
What now?
The thugs had been nothing more than hired muscle, disposable tools for someone more powerful. And whoever was pulling the strings wouldn't be pleased with how badly they'd been beaten. There would be retaliation—of that, Martin was sure.
The question was how. What would they do next? And more importantly, how should he prepare?
He took another drag from the cigarette, his gaze wandering to the open space he'd created in the apartment.
It was a habit he'd developed from his old days—preparing a clear space whenever he felt cornered, ready to defend himself in case of another fight.
His heightened senses told him that it wouldn't be long before another confrontation came. Those who controlled the thugs would want to reclaim their losses.
They had invested a lot in taking him down. And they weren't businessmen playing with paper—no, these were people who could easily switch from boardrooms to back alleys.
Martin wasn't afraid, though. If anything, he was curious. What would they do now?
They had sent thugs. It hadn't worked. Would they try something more direct next time? Or perhaps something more cunning?
Maybe another legal trap like the police officer had tried? He wasn't sure, but one thing was clear—whoever they were, they wouldn't back down easily.
The tip of his cigarette burned in the dim light, the only source of movement in the room.
Martin could feel the tension building within him again, but this time it wasn't fear or anxiety. It was anticipation.
His body, enhanced by the silver token, felt stronger than ever, and his mind, though still recovering from the day's events, was sharp and clear.
He had faced them down once, and he could do it again.
Let them come.