Chapter 3 - The Fatal Ink
|
When Chloe finally stepped back, kicking my severed hair aside with her high heels, Brandon walked forward holding a thick leather folder.
He unclipped a gold fountain pen from his breast pocket and tossed it onto the floor in front of my chained hands.
"The game is over, Evelyn," Brandon said smoothly, opening the folder. "Sign over the companies. Every single share, every patent, and all the offshore accounts. Everything you own belongs to me now."
I looked at the legal documents. It was a complete, irrevocable transfer of power.
"And if I refuse?" I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.
Brandon crouched down to my eye level.
"I took your phone hours ago," he whispered, his breath smelling of alcohol. "I dismissed your private security detail. I locked every heavy steel door in this mansion from the inside. There is no one coming for you."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, unmarked glass vial filled with a clear liquid.
"If you don't sign," Brandon continued, his voice dropping to a sinister hum, "I inject this directly into your neck. Your death will look like a tragic, stress-induced drug overdose. And since I am your loving widower, I inherit the empire anyway. Signing just saves me the probate taxes."
The thirty guests watched in cold silence. They were all in on it. They had all been bought, promised a piece of my empire once I was out of the picture.
May you like
I stared at him silently. My hands were shaking, not from fear, but from the sheer adrenaline coursing through my veins.
He had planned every detail flawlessly. But there was one thing he didn't know about me. One secret I had kept from the moment we met.
