Chapter 5 - The Trap ClosesBy evening, the financial news networks were in a feeding frenzy. Whitmore Logistics Under Federal Investigation; Billionaire Shipping Mogul Faces Asset Freeze. The stock price had plummeted forty-two percent before trading was halted by the NYSE.
I stood on the balcony of my penthouse suite at the Plaza Hotel, wearing a silk emerald gown, holding a glass of vintage champagne. The city lights below twinkled like a million distant stars, indifferent to the destruction of empires.
The door to my suite unlocked. Sarah Vance stepped inside, accompanied by two armed private security guards and a tall, impeccably dressed man with silver-streaked hair—Victor Vance, Sarah’s uncle and senior partner at the firm, as well as a former special advisor to the Department of Justice.
"It’s done, Claire," Victor said, stepping forward and extending his hand. "The federal prosecutors have officially accepted the ledger evidence. Daniel’s accounts in Zurich and the Cayman Islands have been restrained. He can't move a dime, and his board of directors is already drafting a vote of no confidence."
"And Margaret and Vanessa?" I asked, taking a sip of champagne.
"Margaret is currently being questioned regarding corporate tax evasion," Victor replied, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "As for Vanessa Monroe—her family’s shipping ports in Marseille have been seized by French authorities under suspicion of illicit arms trafficking. She has no money, no connections, and no home. She tried to leave the country this afternoon, but her passport was flagged at JFK."
I looked out at the skyline, feeling a profound, deep sense of peace wash over me for the first time in eleven years. The woman who had walked out of the Tribeca penthouse with a cedar box was gone. In her place stood someone far more dangerous: a woman who had survived the monster and taken his crown.
There was a soft knock on the suite's private elevator foyer.
One of the security guards walked over, checked the monitor, and looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. "It’s him, Mrs. Whitmore. Daniel. He managed to shake his detail and find your location."
May you like
Victor frowned. "Shall I have him removed by local authorities?"
"No," I said, setting my champagne glass down on the marble table. "Let him in. It's time for a proper goodbye."
