Chapter 1 - The Descent from the CloudsThe heavy steel hatch of the chartered Bombardier Global 7500 hissed as it locked securely behind me, cutting off the stifling, perfume-choked air of the first-class cabin.
Outside on the tarmac of Denver International Airport, the icy January wind bit sharply through my designer wool coat, but I didn't feel the cold. Inside my chest burned a fire so hot, so pure, that it completely cauterized the final threads of affection I had ever felt for my husband, Carter Sterling.
As I stepped onto the top of the mobile metal airstair, the crisp mountain air filled my lungs. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my encrypted satellite phone, and pressed speed dial.
The call was answered on the first ring.
“Vanguard One. Go ahead, Madam Chair.”
The voice belonged to Miller, the chief legal counsel and head of operations for the Sterling Group’s parent entity—the one neither Carter nor his sycophantic board members even knew existed. They thought Carter was the visionary billionaire at the top of the food chain. They didn't know he was merely the frontman, a puppet sitting on a throne built entirely with my family’s unshakeable capital and secured by patents legally registered under my maiden name, Samantha Sterling-Vane.
“Miller,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, cutting through the wind. “Initiate Protocol Blackout. Effective immediately.”
On the other end of the line, there was a sharp intake of breath. “Protocol Blackout, ma’am? That revokes all secondary corporate credit lines, freezes the operational trust accounts, and halts global server provisioning for Vance Industries. Are you certain?”
“I have never been more certain of anything in my life,” I replied, casting one final, lingering look at the glowing fuselage of the chartered jet behind me. Through the pristine double-paned windows, I could see Carter leaning back in his first-class seat, laughing softly as Khloe wiped a drop of orange juice from his lap with a napkin. His mother, Eleanor, was nodding approvingly beside them, basking in the petty cruelty of putting me in my place.
Let them enjoy their high altitude. Because within the hour, that plane was going to find out what it feels like to fly without wings.
“Execute all phases simultaneously,” I commanded. “Revoke their fuel authorization, freeze the corporate payroll reserve, and notify the airport authority that the charter contract is terminated due to breach of financial covenants. Ground the bird.”
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“Consider it done, Madam Chair,” Miller said, a grim smile evident in his tone. “Welcome back.”
I clicked the phone off, turned my back on the aircraft, and walked down the steps toward the private tarmac vehicle idling on the runway, leaving a multimillion-dollar empire ready to implode behind me.
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