Chapter 11 - The London GhostYou don't fight a billionaire by playing defense. You fight him by finding out where he hides his bodies.
For the next forty-eight hours, the top floor of Vanguard Holdings operated like a militarized intelligence bunker. I didn't go home. I slept on the leather sofa in my office, surviving on black coffee and sheer, unadulterated rage.
My lead cyber-security engineer, a brilliant, antisocial genius named Elias, sat across from me, his fingers flying across his keyboard as he tore through the digital footprints of Obsidian Capital.
"Sterling is a ghost, Serena," Elias muttered, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "His domestic accounts are flawless. He buys distressed assets, strips them, and sells the parts. But the three hundred million he used to buy Raymond’s shadow debt... it didn't come from his London banks."
"Where did it come from?" I asked, leaning over his shoulder.
"A secondary holding company in the Caymans. Apex Global," Elias pulled up a complex web of routing numbers. "But it gets worse. Apex Global is heavily flagged by Interpol. It’s a known laundering front for a sanctioned Eastern European arms syndicate."
A slow, chilling smile spread across my face.
Victor Sterling hadn't just bought Raymond's debt with clean corporate capital. He had used cartel blood money. It was a direct, irrefutable violation of international trade laws. If the federal authorities saw these wire transfers, Victor wouldn't just lose the debt—he would lose his freedom.
"Can you prove the link between Obsidian and Apex?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"I can," Elias said. "But the encryption keys for the final transfer are locked behind a biometric firewall on Sterling’s personal server. I can't hack it remotely. I need his physical device. A phone, a tablet, anything."
Claire walked into the office, holding a gold-embossed invitation.
"Victor Sterling just landed in New York," she announced. "He is hosting the Obsidian Winter Gala at the Pierre Hotel tonight. It’s a victory lap, Serena. He’s inviting the city’s elite to watch him officially announce the acquisition of Vanguard's patents."
"He sent me an invitation?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
"He wants you there to humiliate you," Claire warned. "He wants you to hand over the company in front of the press."
May you like
I looked at the invitation, and then at Elias’s computer screen.
"Tell my stylist I need a dress," I said, my voice echoing with the finality of an executioner. "I am going to a gala."
Related Stories
