Chapter 2 - Blood on the Boardroom Table
The penthouse boardroom possessed panoramic views of the stormy Atlantic Ocean. Rain lashed against the reinforced glass, mirroring the violent storm tearing through my chest.
A private estate medic was swiftly bandaging my ribs and suturing the gash on my forehead. I refused painkillers. I needed my mind razor-sharp.
Arthur was strapped to a leather chair at the far end of the long mahogany table. Sylvia sat beside him, shivering, weeping uncontrollably. I sat at the head of the table, turning my father’s silver pocket watch over and over in my hands. The hitman had left it on the desk in the audio recording. Vance’s team had raided Arthur’s suite and found it exactly where the audio suggested it would be—tucked in Arthur’s personal safe.
"Five years," I whispered, the sound cutting through the ambient hum of the storm. "For five years, I stood at his grave on the anniversary of that 'boating accident.' I watched you cry, Arthur. I watched you give the eulogy. You called him your hero."
Arthur’s jaw tightened. The aristocratic facade was crumbling, revealing the rat beneath. "He was weak, Victoria. He was going to give away half the empire to charity. He was going to turn Kaelen Holdings into a philanthropic joke. I saved this family."
"You slaughtered your own brother for a balance sheet!" I slammed the pocket watch onto the table. The sharp crack made Sylvia flinch.
"And you," I turned my cold gaze to the hotel director. "How much did he pay you to ignore the missing funds? How much to drag me out of my own hotel when I came looking for answers?"
"Two million," Sylvia sobbed, burying her face in her hands. "He deposited it in an offshore account in Belize. Victoria, I swear on my life, I didn't know he tried to have you killed! He just said you were getting too close to the tax records and needed to be detained if you showed up!"
"Shut up, you pathetic idiot!" Arthur barked, straining against his zip-ties. "Say nothing else!"
Suddenly, the boardroom doors flew open. Vance stepped in, his expression grim. "Ms. Kaelen. We have a massive problem. The man in the audio file—the hitman. We pulled the facial recognition from the parking garage."
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"And?" I demanded.
"He didn't leave after he crashed your car," Vance said softly. "He came back to the hotel to collect his final payment. He's trapped inside the building with us. And he is heavily armed."
