Chapter 3 - The ScavengersAn hour later, I was sitting in the rear plush leather interior of my private Maybach, wrapped in a warm cashmere blanket, holding a warm cup of organic chamomile tea.
Outside the tinted windows, the cold rain fell heavily over the grand driveway of the Morrison estate.
Brendan, Diane, and Jessica were standing near the iron gate, soaked to the bone, surrounded by four plastic trash bags containing their personal clothes. Their credit cards were declined, their luxury vehicles impounded by Sovereign security, and their bank accounts completely locked down pending federal investigation.
Jessica was screaming at Brendan, throwing her wet purse at his chest before stomping off down the dark highway in her ruined heels. Diane sat on top of a trash bag in the muddy driveway, sobbing uncontrollably as police cruisers pulled up with flashing blue lights to arrest Brendan for corporate fraud.
I closed the leather privacy curtain, turning to face Arthur, who sat across from me holding a sleek black laptop.
"The medical team is ready at the penthouse, Miss Sovereign," Arthur reported softly. "Dr. Vance will conduct a complete fetal checkup to ensure the cold water and shock caused no complications."
"Thank you, Arthur," I murmured, leaning back against the headrest, rubbing my soft bump. "How are the external shares looking?"
"Morrison Logistics stock collapsed seventy percent within an hour of your announcement," Arthur replied. "By tomorrow morning, the firm will be liquidated, and its assets absorbed into Sovereign Global's charitable foundation."
"Good," I said, a faint smile touching my lips. "Make sure every former employee at Morrison Logistics receives a six-month severance package and a re-hiring option under our green transportation branch. None of the innocent workers should suffer because of Brendan's stupidity."
"Consider it done, ma'am." Arthur hesitated for a moment, looking at me with genuine warmth. "And what about Mr. Montgomery?"
My heart gave a faint, unexpected flutter at the name.
Julian Montgomery.
He was the founder and CEO of Montgomery Tech Holdings—Sovereign Global's chief international partner, and the man who had secretly protected my identity while I lived under cover. Julian was a brilliant, reclusive billionaire who had warned me two years ago that Brendan Morrison was a weak, gold-digging parasite. I had been too stubborn, too naive to listen back then.
"Has Julian been informed?" I asked softly.
"Mr. Montgomery was on his private jet returning from London when Protocol 7 was executed," Arthur revealed. "The moment his plane landed in Chicago twenty minutes ago, he diverted his entire motorcade to your penthouse."
As if on cue, my private phone buzzed on the leather seat beside me.
I picked it up. Julian's name flashed across the dark screen.
I slid the answer button. "Julian?"
"Cassidy," his deep, velvet voice cut through the receiver, laced with an intense, suffocating authority that made my breath hitch. "Are you hurt?"
May you like
"I'm fine," I whispered, looking out at the passing lights of the Chicago skyline. "Just wet and tired."
"I am three minutes away from your building," Julian said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, protective register. "I saw the security footage from the Morrison dining room. If Arthur hadn't arrested Brendan, I would have put a bullet through his head myself."
Related Stories
