Chapter 50 Direct Intervention

Chapter 50 Direct Intervention
Felicia Ardent's POV

The flight back to the States was intolerable. Not because of turbulence. Not because of the hours. But because of the noise. I sat reclined in the leather seat of my private jet, one leg crossed over the other, my tablet resting untouched beside me as my phone continued to light up with incoming messages. Emails. Notifications. Demands. From people who were only powerful because she allowed them to be.

My jaw tightened slightly as another message came through—flagged urgent, as if that meant anything anymore. Ignorant. Dependent. Short-sighted. Every single one of them. They wanted answers. They wanted solutions. They wanted the “situation” with the McKay family and Peter Ramsey’s unfortunate misstep handled and cleaned up as if it were an inconvenience rather than a shifting variable in a much larger structure.

I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Impatient fools,” I murmured.
Sarah approached quietly, placing a cup of tea on the tray in front of me without interrupting the silence. I didn’t acknowledge it immediately. My thoughts were elsewhere. Focused. Sharpening.
Because for the first time—
Something had deviated. Not dramatically. Not catastrophically. But enough.

Damian McKay. I closed my eyes briefly, replaying the meeting. His composure. His refusal to bend. The way he processed information without reacting to it. Most men in his position would have made a mistake by now. Would have overplayed their hand. Would have exposed something useful. He hadn’t. Worse—
He had adapted. My fingers tapped once against the armrest.
“That’s… inconvenient, but also, so very intriguing,” I murmured.
Because he wasn’t weakening, he wasn’t fracturing under pressure. If anything—
He was becoming more focused. More precise. And the source of that shift? His family. And that fiesty brunette, Ms Bennett.

I felt my lips press into a thin line. They weren’t liabilities. By no means could they be used to bargain with him for anything. They were reinforcement, even though they were now spread across their own spaces. Damian was on his way back to the States, Peter was at Stanford for his pre-training, and Marcus was settling into his future with his now fiancée Anna. The McKay sons were proving to be far more complex than the spoiled rich kids Ramsey plotted them out to be. Why he wanted his daughters to marry them was another story. His twisted thinking about how to achieve power was still a mystery to me, but at the end of it all, he paved the way for many of our prized acquisitions. So in a way, I owed it to Ramsey to make sure that his secrets remained buried. Even if it meant going through his own children to get to them. My initial plans needed revision.

The pilot’s voice broke through the quiet cabin. “Beginning our descent.”
I opened my eyes, reaching for the tea at last, taking a slow sip as I looked out the window. Clouds gathered below. Thick. Grey. Obscuring the ground. Fitting. The plane touched down smoothly, rolling to a controlled stop as the cabin lights shifted. I unbuckled my seatbelt without hesitation. Sarah stepped forward immediately with my coat. I waved it off.
“I won’t need it.”
Not yet. The door opened, and within minutes I was descending onto the tarmac, the waiting SUV already positioned for my arrival.

The world outside felt colder. Sharper. More real. I slid into the back seat of the SUV, the door closing with a muted thud as Sarah settled in beside me. The vehicle pulled away without delay.
Silence filled the space. For a moment—
I allowed it. My head leaned back slightly against the seat as I closed my eyes again, pinching the bridge of my nose. Damian’s voice echoed in my mind.
You’re running out of time.
My lips curved faintly.
“Am I?” I murmured.
Confidence wasn’t the issue. It had never been. But awareness—
That was different. He was aware now. Fully. And that made him dangerous. Not because he could stop me. But because he could complicate things further for me.

I opened my eyes, my gaze drifting to the window. The city passed by in blurred motion until—
The SUV slowed. Stopped. A red light. My attention shifted outward, watching as the sky darkened, grey clouds rolling in and swallowing the sunlight in seconds. The street had been bright just moments ago. Now—
Muted. Dim. Controlled. I kept my expression unreadable. But my eyes sharpened. Because that—
That was how this worked. Change didn’t announce itself. It arrived. Quietly. Completely.

My phone rang. Not a message this time. A direct call. I didn’t hesitate. I answered.
“Yes.”
A voice on the other end—one of my watchers. Efficient. Precise.
“Update,” I said.
A brief pause. Then—
“Isabella and Portia Ramsey have returned to the cabin. They’re gathering documents. Packing them.”
I felt the moment my body went still. Not surprised. But—
Interested.
“All of them?” I asked.
“As far as we can tell.”

I let my mind work for a minute. Peter Ramsey’s daughters wouldn't just pack up his things so abruptly. Especially when they publics removed themselves from all his misgivings related to his company. Which meant they were told that the documents held answers. Answers that Damian and his family wanted. Which meant—
They knew something. Or thought they did. My fingers tapped once against my knee.
“Follow them,” I said calmly. “I want eyes on every move. Every interaction. Report immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am.”

The line disconnected. I lowered the phone slowly. Sarah glanced at me.
“Problem?” she asked.
My lips curved slightly.
“No,” I said. “Development.”
Because this—
This was a movement on the board. Unplanned. But not unwelcome. If anything, it was useful.
“Cancel my meetings for the rest of the day,” I added.

Sarah blinked slightly.
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
There was a pause.
“May I ask what you intend to do instead?”
I turned my head slightly, my gaze returning to the window as the light shifted again, the clouds pressing heavier against the sky. My smile returned. Slow. Measured. Certain.
“Damian McKay is becoming a larger problem than anticipated,” I said.
Sarah remained silent. Waiting. My eyes gleamed faintly.
“And problems,” I continued softly, “require direct intervention.”

The SUV began moving again as the light changed. My fingers curled lightly against the armrest as my decision settled into place. No more observation. No more subtle adjustments. It was time to shift the balance. My smile deepened.
“It’s about time,” I said, my voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous—
“I pay the McKay patriarch a visit.”