Chapter 4 - The Alibi in Red
The Grand Ballroom of the Biltmore Hotel was a spectacle of excessive wealth and heavily armed paranoia. Crystal chandeliers cast fractured light over the city’s elite, the politicians, the judges, and the shadow figures who actually controlled the strings. The room smelled of expensive perfume, imported champagne, and the sharp, metallic tang of underlying violence.
I stood near the central fountain, wearing a backless, floor-length gown of midnight silk that clung to every curve like liquid armor. Daniel was a few feet away, holding court with a circle of heavily guarded men, but his eyes tracked my every movement. We had orchestrated this separation deliberately. He was the distraction; I was the blade.
I took a slow sip of my champagne, my eyes scanning the crowd until I found my target.
Standing near the VIP bar, looking incredibly uncomfortable in the presence of actual apex predators, was Chloe.
The blonde in the red dress.
She wasn't wearing red tonight—she was draped in a generic, expensive gold sequins—but I recognized her instantly. She was clutching the arm of Marcus Thorne, one of the oldest, most venomous rivals to the Han family. Marcus was the man who had secretly funded Richard Vance’s embezzlement scheme, attempting to bleed Daniel’s empire from the inside.
When Richard and Mitchell vanished, Marcus needed a new proxy. He had absorbed Mitchell’s discarded mistress, likely using her minor connections in the media world to maintain his foothold.
I handed my glass to a passing waiter and walked smoothly across the ballroom floor. I moved with the effortless grace of a woman who owned the room, the same quiet confidence Daniel had displayed at the airport.
I stopped directly behind Chloe.
“It’s fascinating how quickly loyalties shift in this city,” I said softly, my voice cutting perfectly through the ambient noise.
Chloe whipped around, her eyes widening in immediate recognition. The smug, irritated woman who had looked at me with disdain at the airport terminal was entirely gone. In her place was a terrified civilian who suddenly realized she had swum too far out into the deep water.
“Ava,” Chloe stammered, instinctively taking a half-step away from me. Marcus Thorne turned around, his cold, reptilian eyes assessing me with blatant disrespect.
“Ah. The famous Miss Brooks,” Marcus sneered, swirling the scotch in his glass. “Daniel’s little accountant. I must admit, I expected someone with a bit more... pedigree, to be standing by his side tonight. I suppose he likes the novelty of the working class.”
I didn't blink. I didn't let the insult land. I simply smiled, a sharp, lethal expression that made Chloe flinch.
“Pedigree is often just a polite word for inbreeding, Marcus,” I replied smoothly. “I prefer competence. It’s far more profitable.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened. “Watch your tone, girl. You are out of your depth.”
“Am I?” I asked, taking a step closer, dropping my voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Because from where I am standing, I see a desperate old man using the discarded mistress of an amateur thief as an escort. It’s a bad look, Marcus. It reeks of a failing portfolio.”
Before Marcus could explode, I turned my attention fully to Chloe. She was trembling. She remembered the visual from 3.jpg. She remembered the woman who hadn't cried, but had instead walked directly into the arms of the most dangerous man in Atlanta. She knew, fundamentally, that I had destroyed Mitchell. And she knew I could destroy her.
“Chloe,” I said, my tone almost sympathetic. “Did Marcus tell you why he brought you here tonight? Did he tell you that the federal wire fraud indictments regarding Mitchell Carter’s accounts are currently seeking a co-conspirator? Because Mitchell transferred a significant amount of stolen capital into an offshore account in your name three days before he disappeared.”
Chloe’s face went bone-white. She looked at Marcus, panic rising in her throat. “What? No! Marcus, you said I was protected! You said—”
“Shut up, you idiot,” Marcus hissed, grabbing her arm violently.
“He lied to you,” I said calmly, stepping forward to invade their space. “He is going to use you as the fall guy for the embezzlement ring he orchestrated with Richard Vance. You are the sacrificial lamb, Chloe. Unless, of course, you provide me with the encrypted ledger Marcus keeps on his personal server.”
“You insolent little bitch,” Marcus snarled, his free hand moving toward the inside of his tuxedo jacket.
He never made it.
The heavy, suffocating presence of Daniel Han materialized directly behind Marcus. Without a word, Daniel’s hand clamped down on Marcus’s wrist with such immense, bone-crushing force that the older man gasped in agony, dropping his scotch glass to the marble floor.
Daniel leaned over Marcus’s shoulder, his dark eyes locked onto mine, a look of profound, terrifying pride shining in his gaze.
“Is there a problem here, Ava?” Daniel asked smoothly.
“No problem, Daniel,” I smiled, looking at the terrified Chloe, who was already digging through her clutch to retrieve the heavily encrypted USB drive she carried for Marcus. “Chloe was just deciding whether she wanted to spend the next twenty years in federal prison, or if she wanted to cooperate with the new management.”
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Chloe handed me the drive, her hands shaking violently.
I took it, slipping it effortlessly into the bodice of my gown. The trap was set. The leverage was secured.
