Chapter 6
The private elevator ride to the penthouse suite was utterly silent. Victoria stood in the corner of the mirrored interior, her white satin dress bunched up around her ankles, her manicured nails digging deep into the soft leather of her matching handbag. Her father, Arthur Vane, stood beside her, his face gray and slick with nervous sweat, his tuxedo collar suddenly feeling like a noose. Elena stood near the control panel, leaning slightly against the polished brass rail to rest her injured ribs, the two golden medallions tucked securely into the pocket of her dark tank top.
When the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, they stepped out into the sprawling penthouse office that overlooked the glittering skyline of the city. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows framed a panoramic view of midnight traffic and distant skyscrapers, all of which bore the digital footprint of the Vane corporate portfolio—a portfolio that now belonged entirely to the woman standing beside them.
Arthur cleared his throat, attempting to summon the booming authority that had once terrified junior executives across the globe. “Elena. Let’s not be hasty. We can arrange a private settlement. Whatever debt you claim…”
“Debt?” Elena interrupted quietly, turning her head to look at him. Her voice was devoid of anger, which made it infinitely more terrifying. “Arthur, this isn't about a missed loan payment. Your daughter’s wedding reception was funded using embezzled pension funds from the shipyard workers’ union. We traced the wire transfers three days ago.”
Victoria spun around, her face twisted in outrage. “That’s a lie! My father built this company with his bare hands! You’re just a low-level mercenary hired by our competitors to ruin my wedding day!”
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“Am I?” Elena reached into her pocket and pulled out a slim, encrypted tablet, tossing it carelessly onto the mahogany desk. It slid across the polished wood and stopped right at Arthur’s elbow. “Open it, Arthur. Look at the signature on page four. Your own handwriting. You sold out your own workforce to pay for the catering downstairs.”
Arthur’s hand shook violently as he reached for the device. He knew the game was over.
