Chapter 2 - The Blood on the Balcony
The heavy mahogany door clicked shut behind the man in gray, sealing us off from the sparkling, champagne-drenched ballroom. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was violent. The air on the balcony felt ten degrees colder.
A second man was dragged onto the stone terrace. He was thrown to his knees, his expensive tuxedo torn at the shoulder, a thin stream of blood trailing from his lip to his pristine white collar.
I recognized him instantly. Julian Vance.
Julian was a prominent Philadelphia investment banker, but more importantly, he was the man quietly bankrolling my sister’s lavish lifestyle. He was the reason Vanessa drove a sleek black car, wore a $10,000 gown tonight, and paraded through high society like royalty.
"Mr. Battalia, please," Julian choked out, his hands trembling as he looked up at Carter. "It was a mistake. The accounts were mismanaged, it wasn't intentional—"
"Five million dollars doesn't accidentally wander out of my offshore accounts, Julian," Carter said. His voice was completely devoid of anger, which somehow made it terrifying. He didn't even look at the bleeding man on the ground. He kept his dark, magnetic eyes fixed entirely on me, watching my reaction. "It requires a series of deliberate, very conscious decisions. Decisions you made."
I stood frozen against the stone railing. I should have been terrified. I was standing feet away from a notoriously ruthless crime boss executing his brand of justice. But as Carter looked at me, his gaze was a shield. He was silently promising that the violence in this space would not touch me.
Before Julian could beg again, the balcony doors were shoved open.
"Carter? Are you out here?"
Vanessa burst onto the terrace. She had completely dropped the elegant, practiced glide she used in the ballroom, her face flushed with desperate determination. She froze when she saw the two armed guards in gray. Then, her eyes dropped to Julian bleeding on the stone floor.
Finally, she saw me standing near the railing, with Carter standing close enough to me to share a breath.
Her shock instantly mutated into a vicious, twisting fury.
"Diana!" Vanessa snapped, her voice shrill. "What are you doing out here? I told you to stay at the bar!" She turned to Carter, instantly attempting to reconstruct her flawless facade. "Mr. Battalia, I am so sorry about my sister. She's incredibly awkward. She must have gotten lost looking for the restroom."
Carter slowly turned his head to look at Vanessa. The temperature on the balcony plummeted.
"She is exactly where I want her to be," Carter said smoothly. "The question is, why are you interrupting my business?"
Vanessa faltered, her blue eyes darting frantically between Carter and Julian. Julian saw his opening and threw himself forward, pointing a shaking, blood-stained finger directly at my sister.
"It was her!" Julian screamed, his voice cracking with terror. "Mr. Battalia, she made me do it! Vanessa demanded the penthouse, the cars, the jewelry! When my funds dried up, she threatened to leave me! She knew exactly where the money was coming from! She helped me falsify the ledgers to hide it from your auditors!"
Vanessa’s face drained of all color. The beautiful, untouchable socialite vanished, leaving behind a cornered, panicked animal.
"He's lying!" Vanessa shrieked, backing away toward the glass doors. "Carter, I swear to you, I didn't know! Julian is a liar!" Her eyes darted wildly around the terrace until they landed on me. The old, familiar cruelty ignited in her gaze. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at my chest.
"It was Diana!" Vanessa shouted.
I blinked, staring at her in silence.
"Diana manages the books for her stupid little art gallery!" Vanessa spewed, spinning a frantic, desperate lie to save her own skin. "Julian laundered the money through her! She’s the one who set up the shell corporations! I’m just a victim in all of this, Carter, please. She’s always been jealous of me. She set this up to ruin me!"
The two guards shifted, their hands resting subtly on their holstered weapons. Julian looked confused but was too terrified to correct her.
Carter didn't raise his voice. He didn't issue an order. He simply turned his body to face me, giving me his absolute, undivided attention.
"Is that true, Diana?" Carter asked softly. There was no accusation in his tone. Only a quiet, intense curiosity. He was waiting to see what I would do.
I looked at my sister. For twenty-five years, I had let her push me into the shadows. I had let her choose my clothes, insult my career, and claim the spotlight, because letting her believe she was superior was the easiest way to keep her out of my real business.
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I reached up and smoothed the fabric of the terrible red dress. I took a deep breath of the cold October air, and let the quiet, invisible sister die on that balcony.
"No, Carter," I said, my voice completely steady. "It isn't true."
