Chapter 4 - The Rat Flees the Ship
Victoria Hayes had managed to avoid immediate arrest at the resort by claiming she was merely a guest on the trip and had no knowledge of Julian’s "domestic misunderstandings."
But freedom in the brutal corporate underworld of Miami lasted about as long as a snowstorm in July.
Victoria sat in the plush leather booth of a high-end Brickell rooftop lounge, frantically tapping the screen of her gold-plated smartphone. Her primary lines to Julian were dead—disconnected or ringing straight to federal voicemail. The financial news ticker running on the lounge's massive LED wall flashed headlines in bright red text:
*VANCE TECH SHARES HALTED AMID FEDERAL FRAUD PROBE.*
*BOARD OF DIRECTORS OUSTS CEO JULIAN VANCE UNANIMOUSLY.*
*EMERGENCY LIQUIDATION ORDER ISSUED FOR ALL VANCE-LINKED HOLDINGS.*
Victoria’s chest heaved. Her carefully constructed social climbing strategy—years of maneuvering, seducing, and plotting to push me out of the picture—had completely disintegrated in less than twelve hours.
"Looking for someone, Miss Hayes?"
A quiet, gravelly voice broke through her panic.
Victoria snapped her head up. Standing beside her table was Dante, my father’s security chief. He wasn't wearing tactical gear today; he wore a sharp charcoal suit, but the cold, dead look in his eyes made it clear he was far more dangerous than any street thug.
"Who do you think you are?" Victoria hissed, trying to summon her usual aristocratic disdain, though her voice shook. "Get away from me before I call security!"
"Security left ten minutes ago," Dante replied smoothly, sliding into the booth opposite her without an invitation. He tossed a thick envelope onto the table.
Victoria stared at it warily. "What is this?"
"That is a civil summons and a federal subpoena for conspiracy to commit attempted murder, financial extortion, and tampering with a high-risk medical patient," Dante said, his tone conversational. "You helped orchestrate the drug dosage administered to Mrs. Vance through those prenatal vitamin capsules. The resort security cameras captured you purchasing the digital timers and supervising the tow-rigging on the dock."
Victoria’s face went chalk white. She reached instinctively for her handbag, looking toward the elevator doors.
"Don't even think about running," Dante leaned forward, his voice dropping into a harsh, freezing whisper. "Admiral Sterling doesn't play corporate games, Miss Hayes. If you step foot out of this state, the federal marshals won't read you your rights—they’ll just drop you into a holding cell with prisoners who don't take kindly to women who try to kill pregnant mothers."
May you like
Victoria slumped back against the leather booth, her mascara running down her cheeks as she realized there was no escape from the trap she had helped build.
---
