you’re smart,” I said, taking a slow step toward him. “But you made one fundamental error. You forgot who designed the labyrinth.”
Marcus frowned.
“Did you really think,” I said, my voice rising above the wind, “that an eight-billion-dollar CEO, who spent a year anticipating every single move her enemies would make, wouldn’t audit her own general counsel?”
Marcus’s eyes widened slightly.
“I’ve known about your secret offshore accounts for three months, Marcus. I knew you were embezzling from Vale Holdings to fund a private mercenary team. I just didn’t know why.” I raised my hand.
Instantly, the remaining ten security operatives in the courtyard drew their weapons. But they didn’t aim at me. Every single laser sight locked onto Marcus and his two rogue guards.
From the shadows of the tree line, a fifth SUV—one that had arrived entirely without headlights—roared to life. Six heavily armored figures wearing tactical
gear and night-vision goggles poured out, surrounding us.
My true security. The ones Marcus didn’t hire.
“Drop the weapons,” the tactical leader barked at Marcus’s men.
Outnumbered and outgunned, the two rogue guards slowly lowered their pistols to the snow.
Marcus stood perfectly still, the red laser dots painting his chest. The arrogance drained from his face, replaced by the grim realization that he had been outplayed on a board he thought he controlled.
“You’re a monster, Evelyn,” Marcus whispered.
“No,” I replied, stepping close enough to whisper back. “I am a mother. And you just threatened my sons.”
I looked at the tactical leader. “Bind him. Leave him for the FBI along with my husband. We are going underground.”
The wine cellar was a catacomb of shattered glass. Vivian, in her panic, had knocked over racks of vintage Bordeaux to barricade the heavy steel blast door hidden behind a
