Chapter 32 - The Disposable PawnJulian Sterling backed away from his desk, his hands raised in the air, his eyes darting between the empty bank accounts on his monitor and the steel barrel of the weapon pointed directly at his chest.
"Celeste, put the gun down," Julian said, trying to keep his voice smooth and authoritative, though a tremor of pure panic betrayed him. "This is a glitch. The bank is rerouting the funds."
"Don't insult my intelligence, Julian," Celeste hissed, stepping further into the opulent office and locking the heavy oak door behind her. "Felix outsmarted you. He drained the accounts. You have absolutely nothing left."
"We can recover! I have backup assets—"
"You sacrificed Odette to get the keys to the Kingsley vault," Celeste interrupted, her eyes blazing with a desperate, terrifying clarity. "And last night, after the gala, I found the flight manifests on your private server. You booked a single ticket to Dubai for this morning. You were going to leave me here to take the fall with Odette."
Julian swallowed hard. "Celeste, you’re on parole. You couldn't legally leave the country. I was going to send for you later."
"Liar!" she screamed, closing the distance between them. "I went to prison for five years for trying to play this game! I lost everything! I am not going back to a concrete cell so you can drink champagne in the Emirates!"
"What do you want?" Julian pleaded, his arrogant veneer completely shattered. He was sweating profusely, his bespoke suit suddenly feeling like a straightjacket.
"Open the safe," Celeste commanded, gesturing to the hidden wall panel behind a modern art painting. "I know you keep untraceable bearer bonds and conflict diamonds in there for emergencies. Open it, or I swear to God I will empty this magazine into your chest."
Julian hesitated for only a second before turning around and entering the complex numerical code into the wall safe. The heavy steel door clicked open. Inside rested a velvet bag filled with uncut diamonds and stacks of high-denomination bearer bonds.
Celeste grabbed the bag, shoving it into her designer trench coat.
"If you run, the FBI will hunt you down," Julian warned weakly. "You'll be on the Most Wanted list by noon."
"I’d rather be hunted in Paris than caged in New York," Celeste sneered. She walked to the door, unlocking it with her free hand while keeping the weapon trained on him.
"Goodbye, Julian. Enjoy explaining your bankruptcy to the Vanguard board."
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Celeste slipped out of the office and into the bustling Manhattan morning, disappearing into the sea of yellow cabs and pedestrians, a ghost armed with millions in stolen diamonds, running desperately out of time.
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