Chapter 7: The Predator’s Dinner
The following evening, Victoria requested a private meeting at *Le Petit Oiseau*, an ultra-exclusive rooftop restaurant overlooking Central Park.
Victoria sat in a velvet booth, dressed in an immaculate emerald silk suit. When Elena arrived and slid into the seat opposite her, Victoria signaled the waiter to leave a bottle of champagne.
"You look tired, Elena," Victoria said smoothly, tilting her head with theatrical sympathy. "Fighting a losing battle takes a toll on youth."
"Skip the pleasantries, Victoria," Elena replied, resting her hands on the table. "You didn't invite me here to admire the view."
Victoria took a slow sip from her glass. "Let’s be pragmatic. Julian can be... crude. But I am a businesswoman. Arthur is finished. Even if he survives the dialysis, he will never step onto a trading floor again. The company needs a future."
"And you think your parasitic greed is the future?"
Victoria smiled coldly, unaffected by the insult. "I am offering you two hundred million dollars. Cash. Tax-free, deposited in a Swiss vault tomorrow morning. You walk away, take your father to a quiet clinic in Switzerland, and live like a princess for the rest of your life."
Elena stared at the woman who had spent years systematically draining her family's warmth and wealth.
"Two hundred million," Elena repeated softly. "And what happens to the fifteen thousand workers in the distribution hubs? What happens to the pediatric wing Arthur founded?"
"Collateral damage," Victoria answered without a beat of hesitation. "That's capitalism, darling. Take the money. Or Julian will ensure Arthur doesn't survive his next medical procedure."
The air between them turned electric. Elena leaned in close, her eyes burning into Victoria's.
"You really shouldn't have said that on a live transmission, Victoria."
May you like
Elena reached into her jacket pocket, pulled out a small black receiver, and tapped the screen. From across the dining room, two plainclothes FBI agents rose from their corner table.
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