Chapter 12 - The Viper's GalaThe grand ballroom of the Pierre Hotel was a masterpiece of obscene wealth and curated arrogance. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the elite of the financial world, who mingled and sipped champagne, oblivious to the guillotine poised above their heads.
I did not sneak in. I arrived in a black armored Maybach.
I stepped out of the car wearing a backless, sweeping gown of liquid-gold sequins. I looked like armor. I looked like a queen coming to reclaim her stolen territory. I bypassed the red carpet and walked directly through the heavy brass doors, flanked by Claire and four of my elite private security contractors.
The ambient chatter in the ballroom died down instantly. The sea of billionaires parted as I walked straight toward the center of the room.
I spotted him immediately. Victor Sterling was in his late fifties, with sharp, aristocratic features and eyes that looked like shattered ice. He stood near the podium, surrounded by sycophantic politicians.
When he saw me, his confident, arrogant smile widened. He actually thought I had come to beg.
"Serena Mercer," Victor purred, his voice carrying over the silent room. He stepped forward, offering a mocking bow. "I must admit, I didn't expect you to dress up for a surrender. Have you brought the transfer authorizations?"
"I don't surrender, Victor," I said smoothly, stopping three feet away from him. "And I don't negotiate with men who use cartel money to fund their corporate tantrums."
Victor’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly. "Arrest her. She is trespassing," he commanded his private security.
My security team stepped forward, their hands resting on their concealed weapons, radiating pure, unadulterated menace.
"I wouldn't do that, Victor," I whispered, stepping entirely into his personal space. I pulled a sleek, encrypted flash drive from my gold clutch. "While you were busy planning a party to humiliate a mother, I was busy auditing your Cayman accounts. Apex Global."
Victor’s face drained of every drop of color. The untouchable billionaire shattered in a microsecond.
"How did you..." he choked out, his voice barely a rasp.
"Elias is very good at his job," I smiled, a dark, razor-sharp expression. "I know about the Eastern European syndicate, Victor. I know you used sanctioned blood money to buy Raymond’s debt. And I know that the moment I plug this drive into a federal server, you are going to spend the rest of your life in a supermax prison for international terrorism financing."
"You’re bluffing," Victor hissed, though his hands began to tremble violently. "You can't prove the link without my administrative access."
"You’re right," I said softly. I glanced at the sleek, black smartphone resting in his breast pocket. "Which is why Elias cloned your phone’s biometric signature the moment I stepped within three feet of you. We have the keys, Victor."
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Victor stumbled backward, staring at me in absolute horror. The arrogant predator had just realized he was the prey.
"What do you want?" he breathed, his eyes darting frantically around the room.
