Chapter 15 - The Mistress’s True Face
|
The thirty guests had stopped trembling.
In terrifying unison, the weeping women wiped their fake tears. The groveling board members stood up straight, their faces completely devoid of fear.
"They aren't just your board of directors, Evelyn," Brandon smirked. "They are Victor's elite sleeper cell."
Before my father's men could react to the shift in the room, Chloe—the mistress who had cut my hair—suddenly moved with terrifying speed.
She reached under the slit of her red designer gown and pulled out a suppressed Glock pistol. In a fraction of a second, she fired two shots.
Pew! Pew!
Two of my father’s armed guards dropped to the floor, dead before they even hit the marble.
Chaos erupted.
The executives ripped hidden weapons from their tailored suits and evening gowns. The living room instantly transformed into a deadly Mexican standoff. My father's men raised their automatic rifles, but they were completely surrounded by thirty heavily armed, highly trained assassins posing as corporate elites.
May you like
"Nobody move!" Chloe shouted, pressing her gun directly against the temple of one of my father's lieutenants. She was no longer the whiny assistant. Her eyes were dead, focused, and professional.
We had walked directly into a massive, carefully orchestrated trap.
