Chapter 172
Chapter 172
Victoria didn't ask anything more.
She turned back around, picked up her pencil, and the tip scratched softly against the paper.
Behind her came the sound of Edward walking back to the table and picking up his phone. He kept his voice low as he gave instructions about tomorrow's arrangements—she could only catch fragments.
But she knew exactly what he was setting up.
---
The next morning, Victoria went to the studio as planned.
She'd printed out the list Veda had sent the day before and brought it with her.
After reviewing it twice at the studio, she casually dropped a few remarks to her colleagues about "tracking the money trail on Aiden's side."
Word spread faster than she'd expected. Before noon, everyone in the studio knew she was compiling old financial records connected to Aiden.
---
Meanwhile, inside a small conference room at the Windsor Group tower, Edward sat at the head of the long table with a document spread open before him.
He flipped a page, his voice measured and even. "We've pinpointed Michael's hideout. I'm taking a team tomorrow morning. Chase, scout the route in advance."
Chase nodded.
Edward closed the file and swept his gaze across the room. "This stays between us. Not a word to anyone outside this room."
He stood and walked out. The remaining few gathered their things and dispersed.
---
Victoria stayed at the studio until three in the afternoon. Midway through, a text from Edward came in.
[Bait's out.]
She replied with a single word—"OK"—and went back to flipping through the stack of old financial records.
She'd finished reviewing them long ago. Now she was just putting on a show.
Letting whichever pair of eyes might be watching see that she was deep in this work.
She turned the pages back and forth several times, jotted a few notes in the margins with her pen. To anyone watching, it looked exactly like someone seriously chasing a lead.
---
When she left the studio that evening, she didn't go straight home. She took a detour to a nearby grocery store and picked up some fruit.
Walking back toward her building with the bag in hand, she caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye—a dark sedan parked across the street. It had been there a long time. The plates were unfamiliar, and the windows were tinted too dark to see inside.
She didn't stop to stare. Didn't change her pace. She simply shifted the fruit bag to her left hand, pulled out her phone, and texted Edward.
[Dark car I don't recognize parked across from my building. Been there over an hour.]
Edward replied almost instantly.
[That's mine. Just head inside.]
Victoria pocketed her phone and swiped her keycard at the gate like normal.
As she walked, her mind turned. Michael should be making his move by now.
Once the information was out there, the mole would find a way to pass along the intel—"Edward's hitting the Crescent Harbor warehouse tomorrow morning."
And the moment Michael received that tip, he'd either set up defenses ahead of time or lay an ambush.
Either way, he'd expose his position.
That was exactly what Edward wanted.
---
Around eight that evening, Terence Carr—Veda's man—was camped out in a convenience store across the street from the Windsor Group tower.
He'd arrived the day before. Veda had given him a heads-up that things might start moving in the next couple of days.
He sat by the window, eyes locked on the building's side entrance.
At eight-twenty, the door opened.
A man in a charcoal-gray coat stepped out, walking at an unhurried pace, head down, eyes on his phone.
Terence recognized him immediately.
Randy Bates. Head of the executive secretarial office. Early thirties. The type who came across as steady and dependable in front of Edward—the kind of person who never drew attention.
Randy didn't head toward the subway station. Instead, he turned down an alley running alongside the street.
Terence followed, maintaining roughly ninety feet of distance, his footsteps light and deliberate.
The alley was short. Randy walked to the end and entered a coffee shop on the second floor.
Terence waited two minutes after Randy went upstairs, then slipped in through a side fire escape. He settled into a seat behind a partition screen in the far corner and ordered a coffee.
He set his phone to silent on his knee and strained to listen past the screen.
Someone was there.
Through the gap in the partition, Terence made out the silhouettes of three men.
Randy. Another man whose face was hidden beneath a cap. And a third, sitting across from them—Terence had seen his photo before.
Aiden.
Randy sat closest to the side door, speaking to the man in the cap in a low voice. "...Edward's taking a team to the Crescent Harbor warehouse tomorrow morning. Says Michael's holed up there. He announced it himself in the meeting today."
The man in the cap didn't respond right away. He looked down and swiped through something on his phone.
Through the gap, Terence caught a glimpse of the screen. It looked like a map.
A few seconds later, the man spoke. His voice was barely above a whisper, but Terence could just make it out. "How many is he bringing?"
"He didn't say exactly, but Chase is scouting the route. Sounds like a small-scale operation. Shouldn't be too many people."
Randy stood up as soon as he finished. "I need to go. Staying too long will draw attention. I'll pass along anything else that comes up."
He grabbed his coat and headed downstairs without looking back.
---
After Randy left, the room went silent for a good ten seconds.
Then the man in the cap reached up and pulled it off, setting it on the table. His full face came into view.
Mid-forties. High cheekbones, a gaunt jaw, deep-set eyes. He looked weathered. Worn down.
Terence matched the face against the file Veda had given him.
Confirmed. This was Michael.
Michael glanced at Aiden, and when he spoke, his tone carried far more weight than it had with Randy. "You heard him. Edward's coming for me at the Crescent Harbor warehouse tomorrow. Can you pull something on your end? Feed him another lead—send him chasing somewhere else."
Aiden leaned back in his chair, hands shoved in his pockets, expression flat.
"You want me to run interference? You know my situation better than anyone. The board meeting is this week. I can barely save myself. And you want me to play decoy for you?"
"You can't save yourself because you didn't seize the opportunity when you had it."
Michael's voice dropped low, but every word cut like a blade. "I told you from the start—once we got our hands on the Spencer family assets, Creative Haven's shortfall wouldn't even matter. And what happened? You couldn't even cripple Victoria's hands properly. You let her come back. And now you're complaining to me about how hard things are?"
Aiden pulled his hands from his pockets and planted them flat on the table. He leaned forward.
"Michael, think about what you've done before you start pointing fingers. Who was the one who told me, 'Once Victoria's hands are ruined, she's finished'? I believed you. And after her hands healed, guess who she came after first? Me. Your money flowed through my accounts. I ran your channels for you. And now you have the nerve to dump everything on me?"
His voice rose sharply. Raw fury burned through every word.