Chương 13 - Behind Velvet Curtains
"Clear the floor!" security roared as the steel shutters crashed down over the lobby’s media zone.
We took the private elevator back up to thirty-four in suffocating silence. The brass indicator lights clicked upward: 20... 25... 30...
Neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke until the doors hissed open into the executive suite.
The moment the doors closed behind us, Vivian spun on her heel, her icy composure shattering into absolute fury.
"Explain," she ordered, her voice trembling with suppressed rage.
"Explain what?" I snapped, taking off my suit jacket and tossing it onto the long conference table. "Explain why your drug-addict brother showed up to ruin our press launch, or explain why you didn't tell me my father’s name was listed in the archive files of the 2004 Mercer merger?"
Vivian stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes narrowing. "You knew?"
"I found out at three o'clock this morning," I said, walking toward the bar and pouring two fingers of bourbon without asking. "While you were sleeping off your victory in the penthouse, I was tearing through your legal annex. You knew who my father was when you walked up to my table at that singles mixer, didn't you?"
Vivian stood motionless in the center of the Persian rug, the morning light slicing across her profile.
"Single mixer night wasn't a coincidence," she admitted softly, refusing to look down. "I needed someone with a clean operational record inside the firm who possessed historical clearance to the legacy vaults. The Mercer family trust was locked by a dual-signature protocol created in 2004. Julian had one key. The second key belonged to whoever inherited the estate of Arthur Sterling."
"My father died ten years ago in debt, Vivian!" I slammed the glass down on the counter, the bourbon splashing over the polished walnut. "He drove his car into a bridge abutment because your family froze him out of the advisory fees he was owed! You didn't 'choose' me because I was the only man not drooling over your Cartier watch. You chose me because you needed my biological fingerprint to unlock thirty million dollars of blocked shares!"
"I needed the shares to crush Julian!" she cried out, taking two rapid steps toward me, her hands clenching into fists. "Julian was going to sell our parent company to a Saudi state syndicate! He was going to gut the pension funds, strip forty thousand people of their health care, and throw my father's name into the gutter! Yes, I targeted you. Yes, I researched your schedule. I knew you'd be at that lounge because your roommate booked the ticket under your corporate email."
She came right up to my chest, breathing hard, her porcelain mask entirely stripped away.
"I used you to survive, Leo," she said, her voice dropping to an intense, raw whisper. "That was the mission. That was the plan. But then you did what nobody has done in my entire miserable life."
"What did I do, Vivian?"
"You fought for me when the server room alarms went off," she whispered, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You stayed on the line. You risked federal prison to pull my files out of Julian's fire. You didn't run. And when I held you last night, it wasn't about the legacy trust. It wasn't about the board."
I stared down at her, my pulse pounding against my temples. The corporate game had turned into a minefield of blood feuds and decades-old debts.
Before I could answer, her desk intercom chimed with a frantic urgency.
"Ms. Holloway? It's Marcus from external security."
Vivian pressed the button, her eyes never leaving mine. "What is it, Marcus?"
"Damon Mercer didn't leave the premises after the press stunt, ma'am. He just checked into the Drake Hotel under an alias. And our surveillance team spotted Julian Vance's chief defense lawyer entering his suite ten minutes ago."
Vivian let out a shaky breath, stepping back and running a hand through her hair. "They're forming a coalition. If Damon files an emergency injunction challenging the legitimacy of the restructuring before the board meets tonight, the SEC will freeze our operating accounts by midnight."
I picked up my bourbon, downed it in a single swallow, and looked at her.
May you like
"Then we'd better get dressed for the Drake," I said quietly. "If we're going to war with your family, Vivian, we might as well do it in style."
***
