Chapter 18 - The Viper’s GalaThe grand hall of the museum was a masterpiece of classical architecture, overflowing with crystal chandeliers, champagne, and the suffocating arrogance of the European elite.
I did not sneak in. I walked directly through the front doors, flanked by Jack and four of his most intimidating, heavily armed private security contractors. The British mercenaries guarding the entrance took one look at Jack’s icy glare and stepped aside, recognizing apex predators when they saw them.
The ambient chatter in the room died down instantly as we entered. The sea of billionaires parted.
I spotted him immediately. Alistair Sterling stood near a massive marble statue, holding a glass of scotch, surrounded by sycophantic politicians. When he saw me, the color completely drained from his face.
I walked straight toward him, my red silk gown trailing like spilled blood across the marble floor.
"Claire," Alistair sneered, recovering a fraction of his aristocratic composure as his bodyguards tensed. "I must admit, I didn't expect you to cross the Atlantic just to surrender. Have you come to sign over the Thorne assets?"
"I don't surrender, Alistair," I said smoothly, my voice projecting clearly over the silent, echoing hall. "And I don't negotiate with men who threaten children."
"You are out of your depth, little lawyer," Alistair hissed, stepping closer. "This isn't a Boston courtroom. You have no jurisdiction here. My men could drag you out into the alley and no one would say a word."
"Your men won't do anything," Jack rumbled, stepping into Alistair’s personal space, radiating an aura of pure, unadulterated executioner. "Because if they even twitch, I will personally break your neck before you hit the floor."
Alistair swallowed hard, taking a subtle step back.
"I didn't come to argue jurisdiction, Alistair," I said, opening my red velvet clutch. I pulled out a sleek, encrypted titanium tablet and tapped the screen once. I held it up for him to see.
Alistair looked at the screen. The smug billionaire shattered in a microsecond.
"What is this?" he choked out, his hands beginning to tremble violently.
"That is a live, decentralized blockchain ledger," I smiled—a cold, razor-sharp expression. "While you were busy filing frivolous lawsuits in international court to distract me, Jack’s cyber-division bypassed your primary mainframe. I didn't just find the dark money you used to fund Victor Thorne. I found the routing numbers for the offshore accounts holding your entire, multi-billion-pound fortune."
"You’re bluffing," Alistair gasped.
"I never bluff," I whispered. I tapped the screen a second time. A progress bar appeared. TRANSFER INITIATING.
"Stop!" Alistair screamed, lunging for the tablet.
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Jack caught him by the throat with blinding speed, slamming him backward against the marble statue. The surrounding elites gasped, scrambling away in sheer terror.
"I just siphoned your entire syndicate's treasury," I announced, my voice echoing with the finality of a closing coffin. "I routed it through a localized crypto-tumbler and donated every single penny to an irrevocable global humanitarian trust. You are completely, utterly bankrupt."
