Chapter 13 - Vanessa's Revenge
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While Gregory was experiencing total psychological collapse at the Waldorf Astoria, Vanessa Thorne was drowning in cheap vodka in a dark, dive bar in Brooklyn.
She had been fired from Meridian Capital earlier that afternoon. When the IT department realized her master access card had been used to download the entire offshore shadow ledger, the board of directors hadn't just terminated her; they had threatened her with federal prosecution.
She had lost her six-figure salary, her reputation, and the lavish lifestyle she had built by sleeping with Gregory. And it was all because of a curvy, plain nanny who had humiliated her in front of the entire company.
Vanessa’s phone buzzed on the sticky wooden counter. It was a text from Gregory.
They gave the ledgers to Volkov. It’s over. I’m leaving the country tonight. Do not contact me again.
Vanessa stared at the screen, her blood turning to ice. If Volkov was coming for Gregory, he would inevitably come for her. She had been the one authorizing the transfers. She was a dead woman walking.
Rage, hot and blinding, eclipsed her terror.
She wasn't going to die cowering in an airport. If she was going down, she was taking Nora Bennett with her.
Vanessa scrolled through her phone contacts, finding a number she had sworn never to use. It belonged to a brutal, freelance enforcer named Silas, a man who did the dirty work that the corporate syndicates deemed too messy. She had met him years ago during a hostile takeover involving a rival firm.
She hit dial. He answered on the second ring.
“Silas,” Vanessa slurred slightly, gripping her glass. “I need a job done tonight.”
“I don't work for cheap, Vanessa,” a gravelly voice replied.
“I have two hundred thousand dollars in cash in a safe at my apartment,” Vanessa lied effortlessly. “It’s yours. I need you to hit a target leaving the Mayor’s Gala tonight. A woman. Nora Castellano.”
There was a long pause on the line.
“Castellano?” Silas asked, his tone shifting. “You want me to hit Luca Castellano’s new wife? Are you out of your mind? That’s a suicide mission.”
“Luca won't be expecting a hit at a charity event!” Vanessa argued desperately. “They’ll be relaxed. Just take her out. Shoot the tires, cause a crash, I don't care how you do it. Just make sure she doesn't survive the night.”
Another heavy silence hung over the phone.
May you like
“Two hundred grand,” Silas finally grunted. “Text me the license plate of their vehicle.”
Vanessa hung up the phone, a twisted, ugly smile spreading across her face. Nora thought she had won. But nobody humiliated Vanessa Thorne and lived to tell the tale.
