Chapter 2 - The Five-Minute Empire Collapse
Adrian stared at me, the riding crop still dangling loosely from his grip. For a split second, a flicker of uncertainty crossed his perfect features, quickly masked by an arrogant scoff.
"Your father?" Adrian mocked, tossing the divorce folder onto the floor where it slid into a small puddle of my blood. "What is a retired mid-level accountant going to do, Elara? Audit me to death? You're delusional. The pain has gone to your head."
Vanessa giggled, wrapping both arms around Adrian’s bicep. "She’s pathetic, Adrian. Let’s just call security to throw her out. I don't want our baby breathing the same air as her."
I didn't answer. I just knelt there, breathing slowly through the agonizing fire across my back, watching the grandfather clock in the corner of the grand hall.
Tick. Tock.
One minute passed. Adrian turned his back on me, pouring himself a glass of scotch from the crystal decanter.
Two minutes.
At exactly three minutes, Adrian’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it, taking a sip of his drink. It buzzed again. Then Vanessa’s phone began to ring. Then the estate’s landline echoed through the vaulted ceilings.
Adrian frowned, pulling his phone out. The screen illuminated his face in the dim light of the chandelier. "It's Marcus," he muttered, referencing his Chief Financial Officer. He swiped to answer. "Marcus, I’m busy. This better be—"
He stopped. The silence in the room became absolute, broken only by the tinny, frantic voice bleeding through the phone's speaker.
"What do you mean, frozen?" Adrian snapped, his posture stiffening. "That’s impossible. We have fifty million in liquid assets in the Cayman accounts alone. Call the bank!"
Whatever Marcus said next made all the color drain from Adrian’s face, leaving him looking like a wax figure. His hand trembled, sloshing the expensive scotch over the rim of his glass.
"The Vanguard Group pulled out?" Adrian’s voice was barely a whisper now, rising in panic. "And the Sterling conglomerate? They’re our primary backers! You can’t just lose the Sterling contract in sixty seconds!"
I slowly pushed myself up off the bloody marble, my knees shaking, but my spine straight.
"Four minutes," I whispered.
May you like
Adrian snapped his head toward me, his eyes wide, wild, and suddenly terrified. He dropped his glass. It shattered on the floor, the amber liquid mixing with my blood.
Before he could speak, the massive oak doors of the grand hall were violently pushed open.
