Chapter 116 Burning Down Her Stolen Life
Vanessa Cole stood with her back pressed flat against the floor-to-ceiling glass window of her luxury loft. She looked trapped. Real, unadulterated panic widened her eyes. She stared at me, searching for the girl she manipulated three years ago. She found a stranger.
"Take it all back," Vanessa repeated. Her voice cracked. She tried to laugh, but the sound was thin and hysterical. "You are being dramatic, Minerva. You run a cosmetics brand. You are not a mafia boss. You cannot touch my clients."
"I am the CEO of Aegis," I corrected her. "I also own Ashcroft Holdings. I control the primary retail distribution channels for three dozen luxury brands in this city. Your clients are junior executives and mid-level managers. They answer to the people I control."
I pulled my secure phone from my pocket. I swiped the screen to open the email application.
"What are you doing?" Vanessa demanded, taking a hesitant step forward.
"I am sending an email, Vanessa," I said. I held the phone up, showing her the screen. "It is a comprehensive file. It contains the wire transfer receipt from the Whitmore slush fund. It contains the bank records showing your payments from the Ashcroft Media Syndicate. It outlines every single corporate secret you leaked over the past three years."
The blood drained completely from her face. She looked sick.
"No," Vanessa breathed. She reached out, her hand trembling. "Minerva, please."
"I am sending it to the human resources department of every major corporation in the capital," I continued. I kept my thumb hovering over the send button. "I am sending it to the ethics boards. I am sending it to the private security firms that vet corporate consultants."
"You will ruin me," Vanessa choked out. Tears spilled over her lashes. "I will lose my contracts. I will lose this apartment. I will be blacklisted."
"You will be exactly what you made me," I stated.
"You sold my pain to buy designer clothes," I said. The anger in my chest was cold and precise. "You watched the media tear my character to shreds. You watched me flee the city with nothing but the clothes on my back. You thought you could build a career on betrayal and face no consequences."
I looked her straight in the eye.
"The consequences are here," I declared.
I pressed my thumb against the screen. The email sent.
"No!" Vanessa shrieked. She lunged forward, grabbing my arm. "Call it back! Tell them it is a lie! You have to stop it!"
I yanked my arm out of her grip with enough force to send her stumbling backward.
"It is done," I said. "By tomorrow morning, your name will be radioactive. No legitimate business will hire you. The gossip columns will drop you the moment they realize your access is severed. You are finished in this city, Vanessa."
Vanessa collapsed onto the white leather sofa. She buried her face in her hands. She wept loud, racking sobs. She did not cry because she felt remorse. She cried because she lost her luxury loft and her easy money.
I turned my back on her and walked toward the front door.
"I hope he never comes back to you," Vanessa spat. The tears stopped. "I hope Tristan marries Celeste. You deserve to be alone."
I stopped with my hand on the brass doorknob. I looked over my shoulder.
"I am not waiting for him to come back," I told her. "I am building an empire that does not need him."
I opened the door and walked out of the loft. I left her crying in the wreckage of her own making.
I took the elevator down to the lobby. I walked past the doorman and stepped out into the freezing wind. Marcus held the door of the black sedan open. I slid into the back seat.
"The safe house, Marcus," I instructed. The adrenaline from the confrontation faded, leaving a deep, hollow ache in my bones. I needed to see my son. I needed to anchor myself to the only pure thing left in my life.
The drive took forty minutes. We left the dense architecture of the capital and entered the quiet, sprawling suburbs. The safe house sat at the end of a dead-end street, surrounded by tall pine trees and a heavy iron fence.
Eduardo Valdez opened the front door before I reached the porch. The veteran security specialist looked tense.
"He is in the living room with Lucia," Eduardo reported. "He is fine. But we have a situation."
My heart stalled. "What situation?"
"A Johnston private intelligence team swept the neighborhood three streets over about an hour ago," Eduardo explained. He closed the heavy door behind me and engaged the deadbolts. "They are knocking on doors. They are offering cash rewards for information regarding a young boy matching Elias's description."