Chapter 10 - The False Victory
Larkin did not flinch away from the sharp blade pressed against his throat.
"Thomas ordered the hit on your brother without my permission," Larkin confessed to me, his eyes filled with regret.
"I hired you because keeping you close was the only way to ensure Thomas couldn't finish the job."
Arthur slowly lowered the scalpel, stepping back from the table.
"He is telling the truth," Arthur muttered begrudgingly.
Larkin sat up, wincing as his fresh stitches pulled tight.
"Give me a secure phone," Larkin ordered Arthur.
My brother tossed him an untraceable burner cell.
Larkin made three brief phone calls to his most loyal captains, speaking in rapid, coded Russian.
He coordinated a massive, ruthless counter-strike against Thomas and the Donatelli family.
Within two hours, the war was over.
Thomas was captured alive and locked in a secure syndicate vault, and Donatelli's remaining men surrendered.
Larkin regained absolute control of his empire before the sun even rose over Manhattan.
We returned to Larkin's heavily fortified penthouse at the top of the glass tower.
Larkin walked over to his mahogany bar and poured two glasses of expensive scotch.
He handed one to me, his fingers gently brushing against mine.
"You are no longer a secretary, Penelope," he said softly, looking at me with profound respect.
"You survived the night, you saved my life, and you outsmarted my enemies."
He reached out and gently tucked a strand of dark hair behind my ear.
"You are my equal now."
A massive wave of triumph and relief washed over me.
The nightmare was over, my brother was alive, and I was standing beside the most powerful man in New York as his partner.
Larkin’s secure phone rang, and he excused himself to take a private call from the mayor in the hallway.
I smiled, setting my crystal glass down on his immaculate mahogany desk.
I absentmindedly opened the top drawer of the desk to grab a pen to write down my new security codes.
Instead of office supplies, I found a thick, red leather folder with my name printed on it.
I opened the file, expecting to find my new employment contract.
Instead, I found a stack of horrifying, high-resolution photographs.
The photos showed Larkin Steves, looking much younger, standing over the bloody bodies of my parents fifteen years ago.
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The final document in the folder was a signed contract proving Larkin had not been protecting me.
He had been grooming me since childhood to take the ultimate fall for his crimes.
