Chapter 3
The glass doors of the Plaza swung open, and the freezing Manhattan air hit my face like cold water. Julian was a step behind me, his long, deliberate strides matching mine as we descended the stone steps toward the waiting black car. Behind us, the ballroom had dissolved into absolute chaos—shouting executives, cell phones ringing off the hook, and the desperate, muffled yelling of Chase trying to demand an emergency closed session.
“The restraining order hit his private accounts three minutes ago,” Julian said, sliding into the back seat beside me. “His black card will decline before he can even pay for parking.”
I pulled my mother’s platinum band from my pocket, rubbing my thumb over the worn engraving inside: Forever, C.W. to E.W.
“He won’t try to pay for parking,” I said, looking out at the fifth avenue traffic. “He’ll run straight to the penthouse to salvage what he can from the safe before Marco locks down the elevator codes.”
“Marco already cut the service overrides,” Julian replied, glancing down at a real-time tablet feed. “Every door in the penthouse is dead-bolted on a biometric lock registered exclusively to your thumbprint. But Chase is reckless, Ava. When a narcissist realizes his stage has caught fire, he tries to take everyone down with the theater.”
My phone buzzed in my lap.
The screen flashed with Chase’s name. Once. Twice. Three times.
Then came the text message: “You think Julian Vance can save you from what I have on your family? You just ruined both of us, Ava. Answer the damn phone before I go to the press with the real reason your father died in Switzerland.”
My fingers tightened around the glass screen until my knuckles turned white. My father’s death four years ago had been ruled a sudden cardiac arrest at a private clinic outside Zurich. For years, Chase had whispered subtle, poisonous hints whenever I pushed back against his financial demands, implying my father had left behind a web of dark debts and offshore scandals. I had spent four years believing Chase was shielding the Whitlock legacy from ruin.
“Julian,” I said, holding up the phone. “Look at this.”
Julian read the message, his jaw hardening until the muscles looked like carved granite. “He’s bluffing. Your father was a titan, Ava. Chase was nothing more than a mid-level portfolio manager when your father brought him into the firm.”
“Chase doesn't bluff about leverage,” I countered quietly. “He’s a scavenger. If my father had a secret, Chase spent four years turning it into an insurance policy.”
“Then we open the vault,” Julian said firmly. “Not the safe in your penthouse. The primary repository in Zurich. I’m booking the private charter out of Teterboro for tonight.”
Before I could answer, my phone lit up again—this time with an unknown number. I swiped the screen and put it on speaker.
“Ava?”
The voice on the other end was breathless, frantic, and cracked with tears. It was Sienna Vale.
“You have five seconds before I block this number, Sienna,” I said flatly.
“Don't hang up! Please, Ava, don’t hang up!” Sienna sobbed into the receiver, the sound of blaring car horns and wind howling in the background. “Chase took my passport. He took the keys to my apartment on Mercer Street. He told me if I talked to Julian’s investigators, he would tell the district attorney that I forged your signature on the Delaware shell corporation!”
“You did sign those incorporation papers, didn't you?” I asked coldly.
“He told me it was a tax restructuring for our future!” she cried out, her voice spiraling into full-blown panic. “He said you were mentally unstable and that the trust was going to be frozen by your father’s creditors anyway! Ava, please, he’s at my apartment right now tearing the place apart looking for the hard drive. He said if he goes down, he’s leaving me with the criminal liability!”
I looked over at Julian. He was already typing on his phone, signaling his private security detail with sharp hand gestures.
“Where are you now, Sienna?” I asked.
“In a cab outside the Soho Grand,” she wept. “I don't have anywhere to go. My cards are locked, and Chase’s driver is circling the block. He wants the backup drive with the Swiss account logs!”
“Listen to me very carefully, Sienna,” I said, my voice cutting through her hysterics like a scalpel. “You walked into my home, put on my clothes, and humiliated my family for twenty-seven seconds of internet fame. You deserve everything coming to you. But I am giving you exactly one chance to save yourself from federal prison.”
“Anything! Ava, please, I’ll do anything!”
“Julian’s car will intercept your cab at the corner of West Broadway and Grand in four minutes,” I commanded. “You will give my security team that hard drive. You will walk into the Midtown North Precinct and submit a sworn affidavit stating Chase Whitlock coerced you into executing corporate wire fraud. If you do that, Julian will not name you as a co-conspirator in the grand larceny suit.”
A pause hung on the line, thick with desperate calculation.
“And... and the ring?” Sienna whispered timidly.
“The ring is already back on my hand,” I said coldly. “Now make your choice. A federal cell, or the back of my lawyer’s car.”
“I’ll take the car,” she breathed.
The line went dead.
May you like
I leaned back against the leather seat, staring out at the gray Manhattan skyline. The pieces were moving faster than Chase anticipated, but the snake was cornered. And a cornered snake always strikes at the closest jugular.
“Julian,” I murmured, watching the clouds roll over the Hudson River. “Tell the pilot to prepare the jet for Zurich. We leave the second Sienna’s affidavit is signed.”
