Chapter 95 Adeline
Adeline's POV
The next day, I walked into Percy’s office carrying two cups of black coffee, my eyes immediately locking onto the pile of electronics resting on the polished table. There were two sleek laptops, a heavy external hard drive, and a handful of silver flash drives.
Percy was standing by the window, as usual, with his suit jacket off and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He turned as the doors clicked shut behind me.
"Malik was efficient," I noted, setting his coffee down next to the stolen or recovered tech.
"Malik is many things, but he is never late or sloppy." Percy murmured, picking up the cup. His dark eyes dragged over me, entirely appreciative of the tailored black suit and the sharp energy I was radiating. "The accountant, Marcus Thorne, was extremely cooperative. Apparently, having four armed men wake you up at two in the morning makes you very eager to surrender your passwords."
"Did Malik have to...?" I trailed off, raising an eyebrow.
"No blood in the apartment, if that's what you're asking," Percy replied smoothly, taking a sip of his coffee. "Marcus was given a choice: hand over every trace of the Whitmore files or take a one-way trip in the trunk of his car. He chose wisely. He also swore he’s moving to Oregon by the end of the week."
"Good," I said, pulling out the leather chair opposite his desk and sitting down. "Let's see what a five-million dollar extortion plot looks like on paper."
I didn't use Percy’s firm-issued computer. I wasn't about to risk putting external malware on Royal & Associates' highly encrypted servers. Instead, I booted up one of the stolen laptops, typed in the password Malik had extracted, and plugged in the external hard drive.
Percy walked around the desk, pulling up a chair right beside mine. He leaned in close as we both stared at the screen.
My fingers flew across the keyboard. It didn't take long. Marcus Thorne was an accountant, which meant he was a meticulous recordkeeper. He hadn't just saved the stolen Whitmore ledgers; he had saved every single piece of correspondence he had with Eric Weeks to cover his own tracks.
"Look at this," I whispered, opening a hidden folder labeled E.W. Transactions. The screen filled with screenshots of encrypted text messages, wire transfer receipts, and audio files. I clicked on a PDF of an email chain. It was sent from a burner account, but the IP address matched the shell company Eric owned.
"I need the unredacted files on the Whitmore trust," the email read. "I know you have them, Marcus. Fifty grand is in the Caymans' account. Hand them over and I can finally squeeze the Whitmore bitch for everything her father left her."
A low, dangerous growl vibrated in Percy’s chest. He reached out, his large hand gripping the edge of the desk so tightly his knuckles turned white. "He called Zara a bitch," Percy stated coldly. "I am going to let Alex break his jaw before we leave."
"Let me break his bank accounts first," I countered, my eyes scanning the rest of the documents. "Percy, this is a goldmine. We have undeniable proof of corporate espionage, blackmail, and illegal wire transfers. If this goes to a federal prosecutor, Eric Weeks is looking at twenty years in a minimum-security prison."
"Prison would be too good for him," Percy dismissed coldly. "He's a socialite. He will buy a comfortable cell and be out on parole in five. He needs to lose the only thing that actually matters to him: his money and his name. Those are the things that really matter to him."
"Exactly," I said with a predatory smile curving my lips. I closed the laptop and spun my chair to face him. "Which is why we aren't going to the police."
"What are you talking about?"
"We are going to offer Mr. Weeks a contract."
"I want to hear this plan." Percy leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The spark of amusement was back in his eyes. He just loved watching me work. "Tell me how exactly this is going to work."
"I spent all night drafting it," I said, reaching into my briefcase and pulling out a freshly printed, ten-page legal document. I slid it across the desk toward him. "It’s a Non-Disclosure Agreement wrapped in barbed wire. It states that Eric Weeks will immediately destroy any copies of the Whitmore ledgers and will never speak, write, or contact Zara Whitmore or any of her immediate family ever again."
Percy picked up the contract, his eyes scanning the legal jargon. "And the penalty for breach of contract?"
"Total asset forfeiture," I replied smoothly. "If Eric Weeks even breathes the name Whitmore in public, he legally signs over the entirety of his trust fund, his Manhattan real estate, and his equity firm to a blind holding company."
Percy paused, looking up from the paper. "A holding company owned by who?"
"By us," I smirked. "And the best part? Buried in section four, there is a confession clause. By signing this document, he admits to the extortion. If he breaks the NDA, we don't just take his money; we forward the confession directly to the SEC and the FBI. He will be completely destitute and facing federal indictment on the same day."
Percy stared at me for a long moment before a slow, proud smile spread across his handsome face. He tossed the contract back onto the desk and reached for me. His hands gripped my waist, and he lifted me effortlessly from my chair and onto his lap. I gasped softly, my hands instinctively flying up to rest on his broad shoulders.
"You are very terrifying, Adeline. Remind me to never be on your bad side." Percy rasped, his eyes dark with lust and reverence.
"You don't like it?" I raised a brow.
"It is the biggest turn on of my entire life."
I laughed breathlessly as he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive skin just beneath my jaw. "We still have to get him to sign it."
"He will sign it." Percy promised against my neck, his hands tracing the curve of my spine. "How do you want to play the sting?"
I took a shaky breath to focus past the distracting heat of his touch. "Eric gave Zara until Friday to deliver the five million. We tell Zara to call him today. She tells him she managed to liquidate some assets, but she refuses to do an electronic transfer. She demands a face-to-face meeting to hand over a check."
Percy pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. "He won't meet her in an alley. He's a coward. He will want a public place where he feels safe and in control."
"Exactly. He's definitely going to pick a five-star restaurant or an exclusive club." I agreed. "He will sit down at the table, expecting Zara to hand over a briefcase full of money while she begs him for mercy."
"But Zara won't be the one sitting at the table," Percy finished with a wicked grin on his face.
"No," I whispered as I stroked his dark hair. "It's going to be us."