Chapter 9
I felt a smile spread across my face—the first genuine smile I'd felt in this room.
"You tell them, grandmother. You've earned it."
Eleanor Ashworth rose from her chair with the slow, deliberate grace of a woman who had never once been afraid.
"Ms. Voss." Her voice was pure steel wrapped in velvet. "I've been in business for sixty-one years. I've faced hostile takeovers, market crashes, and actual assassination attempts. Did you truly believe a blackmail scheme run by two confidence artists and a boy with a fake resume would be the thing to break me?"
Elena's smile faltered for the first time. "The documents are real. The diagnosis—"
"Is a fabrication." Grandmother's eyes gleamed. "Planted specifically for anyone who breached our medical servers."
Nathan's face went white. "That's not possible. I verified—"
"You verified what we wanted you to verify." I stepped forward. "We identified you as compromised six weeks ago. Everything you've accessed since then has been curated misinformation."
James Wheeler appeared in the doorway behind me, flanked by four security officers. "The tax irregularities you found? Filed deliberately as bait, with full cooperation of the SEC, who were very interested in your methods."
Elena shot to her feet. "This is—"
"A trap." Grandmother finished her bourbon. "Rather elegant, I thought. Serena designed it."
Elena spun to face me, and for the first time, I saw the real woman behind the mask. Not the fragile victim, not the clever manipulator—just someone cornered, desperate, and furious.
"You planned this?" she hissed.
"The moment I learned you'd placed someone in my company." I kept my voice calm. "You made a mistake, Elena. With the Harrisons, you were preying on guilt and sentimentality. I don't have either."
Security moved forward. Nathan backed against the wall, hands raised. "I want a lawyer—"
"You'll get one," James said pleasantly. "You'll need one. International wire fraud, corporate espionage, attempted extortion—shall I continue?"
Elena's eyes darted between the exits—all blocked. Her breathing quickened.
Then she laughed. Short, sharp, ugly.
"Fine." She straightened her spine, the vulnerable persona shed completely. Beneath it was something hard and cold. "You got me. This time."
"Not this time," I corrected. "Every time. The six families you and Richard destroyed? Authorities in three countries have been building cases for months. James connected the dots."
Her face went blank.
"Richard was arrested in Singapore two days ago," James added. "He's already cooperating with prosecutors."
The last of Elena's composure crumbled. Her shoulders dropped. Her hands unclenched. She looked suddenly small—not strategically small, like she'd pretended for years, but genuinely diminished.
"You ruined everything," she whispered to me.
"No." I shook my head. "You did that yourself. Three years ago, when you chose my family as your target."
Security took her arms. She didn't resist.
As they led her out, she paused beside me. Up close, without the performance, she looked exhausted. Human.
"He did love you, you know," she said quietly. "Dominic. He just didn't know how to show it without someone telling him what to feel."
I didn't respond. I didn't need to.
They took her away.
Grandmother placed a hand on my shoulder. "You handled that beautifully, darling."
"It doesn't feel beautiful," I admitted. "It feels heavy."
"Justice always does." She squeezed gently. "Now—I believe you have a company to run. And I have a nap to take."
I laughed—a real laugh, from somewhere deep—and pressed my forehead to her shoulder for just a moment.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For waiting for me."
"Always, my girl." Her hand patted my hair. "Always."
"You tell them, grandmother. You've earned it."
Eleanor Ashworth rose from her chair with the slow, deliberate grace of a woman who had never once been afraid.
"Ms. Voss." Her voice was pure steel wrapped in velvet. "I've been in business for sixty-one years. I've faced hostile takeovers, market crashes, and actual assassination attempts. Did you truly believe a blackmail scheme run by two confidence artists and a boy with a fake resume would be the thing to break me?"
Elena's smile faltered for the first time. "The documents are real. The diagnosis—"
"Is a fabrication." Grandmother's eyes gleamed. "Planted specifically for anyone who breached our medical servers."
Nathan's face went white. "That's not possible. I verified—"
"You verified what we wanted you to verify." I stepped forward. "We identified you as compromised six weeks ago. Everything you've accessed since then has been curated misinformation."
James Wheeler appeared in the doorway behind me, flanked by four security officers. "The tax irregularities you found? Filed deliberately as bait, with full cooperation of the SEC, who were very interested in your methods."
Elena shot to her feet. "This is—"
"A trap." Grandmother finished her bourbon. "Rather elegant, I thought. Serena designed it."
Elena spun to face me, and for the first time, I saw the real woman behind the mask. Not the fragile victim, not the clever manipulator—just someone cornered, desperate, and furious.
"You planned this?" she hissed.
"The moment I learned you'd placed someone in my company." I kept my voice calm. "You made a mistake, Elena. With the Harrisons, you were preying on guilt and sentimentality. I don't have either."
Security moved forward. Nathan backed against the wall, hands raised. "I want a lawyer—"
"You'll get one," James said pleasantly. "You'll need one. International wire fraud, corporate espionage, attempted extortion—shall I continue?"
Elena's eyes darted between the exits—all blocked. Her breathing quickened.
Then she laughed. Short, sharp, ugly.
"Fine." She straightened her spine, the vulnerable persona shed completely. Beneath it was something hard and cold. "You got me. This time."
"Not this time," I corrected. "Every time. The six families you and Richard destroyed? Authorities in three countries have been building cases for months. James connected the dots."
Her face went blank.
"Richard was arrested in Singapore two days ago," James added. "He's already cooperating with prosecutors."
The last of Elena's composure crumbled. Her shoulders dropped. Her hands unclenched. She looked suddenly small—not strategically small, like she'd pretended for years, but genuinely diminished.
"You ruined everything," she whispered to me.
"No." I shook my head. "You did that yourself. Three years ago, when you chose my family as your target."
Security took her arms. She didn't resist.
As they led her out, she paused beside me. Up close, without the performance, she looked exhausted. Human.
"He did love you, you know," she said quietly. "Dominic. He just didn't know how to show it without someone telling him what to feel."
I didn't respond. I didn't need to.
They took her away.
Grandmother placed a hand on my shoulder. "You handled that beautifully, darling."
"It doesn't feel beautiful," I admitted. "It feels heavy."
"Justice always does." She squeezed gently. "Now—I believe you have a company to run. And I have a nap to take."
I laughed—a real laugh, from somewhere deep—and pressed my forehead to her shoulder for just a moment.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For waiting for me."
"Always, my girl." Her hand patted my hair. "Always."