Chapter 12 - TURNING THE TABLES
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At 8:30 a.m., dressed in a sharp beige trench coat with my dark hair pulled back into a sleek bun, I walked into the lobby of the Mercer Hotel.
Marcus remained in the idling sedan outside, monitoring the hotel’s security feeds through a intercepted Wi-Fi signal.
I bypassed the front desk and took the elevator directly to the fifth floor. Stopping outside Suite 504, I took a deep breath, adjusted my posture, and knocked twice on the heavy wooden door.
Moments later, the door swung open.
Vanessa Cole stood on the threshold, holding a cup of espresso, wearing a silk robe. When her eyes landed on my face, her hand froze mid-air, and the color drained completely from her lips.
“Clare?” she breathed out, her eyes darting nervously down the hallway. “How… how did you get past security?”
“Dominic’s security is looking for a broken, weeping woman,” I replied in flawless, accent-free Italian. “They aren't looking for me.”
Vanessa dropped her espresso cup. The porcelain shattered against the hardwood floor, dark liquid spilling across her white slippers.
“You… you speak Italian?” she stammered, stepping back into the room in pure shock.
“I understand every single word, Vanessa,” I continued in Italian, my voice smooth, cold, and unwavering as I stepped inside the suite and closed the door behind me. “Including what Dominic said to you in the library at the Halston Grand while I stood outside the glass door.”
Vanessa backed away until her knees hit the edge of the glass coffee table. “Clare, whatever you think you heard—”
“I didn't just hear it,” I interrupted, pulling a sleek tablet from my handbag and placing it on the table between us. “I brought something for you to read. Page four of the Swiss vault authorization.”
May you like
Vanessa hesitated, her eyes wide with terror, before looking down at the screen.
As she read the legal document showing that Dominic had excluded her from the twelve-million-dollar Zurich fund, her hands began to tremble violently.
