Chapter 13 - The Executioner’s GambitThe silence in the ballroom was absolute. Every eye was fixed on the standoff in the center of the room.
"I want the debt canceled," I dictated, my voice echoing with crystal-clear authority. "I want you to sign a legally binding release, entirely voiding the three-hundred-million-dollar promissory note. And I want the forty percent of Vanguard’s minority shares you purchased transferred directly into a blind trust in my daughter’s name. Tonight."
"That’s billions of dollars!" Victor choked, his face turning a violent shade of red. "You are robbing me!"
"I am saving your life, Victor," I whispered coldly. "Because if you don't sign it right now, I will hit send on an automated email that will deliver your unredacted ledger to the FBI, Interpol, and the SEC. Your assets will be frozen by midnight, and you will be arrested before you can even reach your private jet."
I pulled a folded legal document and a gold fountain pen from my clutch and held them out to him.
"Tick tock, Victor," I smiled.
Victor looked at the document. He looked at the surrounding elite, who were physically backing away from him, distancing themselves from the radioactive fallout of his impending ruin. He was cornered, bleeding out, and completely trapped.
With shaking hands, he took the pen. He signed the document, his signature jagged and desperate.
I took the paper back, handing it immediately to Claire, who verified it with a sharp nod.
"A pleasure doing business with you, Victor," I said smoothly.
"You think you’ve won?" Victor hissed venomously, leaning in. "The cartel will not forgive the loss of those shares. They will come for you."
"Let them come," I replied, turning my back on him. "I’ll bury them next to you."
As I walked out of the ballroom, my phone buzzed. It was an alert from Elias.
I had promised Victor I wouldn't send the ledger to the FBI if he signed the document. But I was the woman who had survived Raymond Mercer. I didn't believe in honor among thieves.
May you like
I tapped the screen, authorizing Elias to release the files.
Before my Maybach even pulled away from the curb, I saw the flashing red and blue lights of a dozen FBI tactical vehicles swarming the Pierre Hotel. Victor Sterling’s empire was burning to the ground, and I was watching the smoke rise from the comfort of my backseat.
