Chapter 6 - The Rooftop Descent
We waited in agonizing silence. The only sounds were the soft weeping of a few socialites and the scratching of pens as the elite continued to desperately write their confessions.
Five minutes later, the heavy clang of the freight elevator echoed through the hall.
The steel doors slid open, and Richard Croft stepped into the atrium.
He was a terrifying man. Tall, broad-shouldered, with silver hair and eyes as cold and gray as a winter storm. He wore a heavy wool overcoat, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might shatter. He radiated violence.
Two of my tactical guards immediately stepped up behind him, patting him down for weapons. He didn't flinch. He just kept his eyes locked on me.
"You have a lot of nerve, little girl," Richard said, his voice dropping to a dangerous baritone. He walked slowly past the cowering elite, disgusted by their weakness. He stepped on the uncut diamonds without looking down.
"I have a lot of evidence, Richard," I corrected, standing my ground.
He stopped a few feet from me. He looked at his son, who was trembling on the floor. Richard didn't offer a hand to help him up. He just sneered in disappointment.
"Name your price," Richard said, turning back to me. "I know how this works. Your father bought the trust. You engineered this little trap. You want a payout. Fine. Name the number. Fifty million? A hundred? I will wire it to your offshore accounts right now, and we all walk away."
I let out a soft, genuine laugh. "You really think this is about money?"
"Everything is about money," Richard stated as if it were a law of physics.
"Not this," I said, stepping closer to the billionaire. "Do you remember a man named Thomas Cross?"
Richard’s eyes narrowed slightly, searching his memory. "No."
"He was my grandfather," I said, my voice tightening. "Thirty years ago, he owned a small, independent shipping company in Oakland. You wanted his ports for your smuggling ring. He refused to sell. So, you bribed a judge to freeze his assets. You framed him for embezzlement. You destroyed his reputation, drove him into bankruptcy, and forced him into an early grave. My father had to build our empire from the ashes you left behind."
May you like
Richard scoffed. "That’s business. If your grandfather was too weak to survive, that’s his fault."
"And if you are too stupid to see a trap, that’s your fault," I retorted. "We didn't just want your money, Richard. We wanted your legacy. We wanted your total, absolute destruction."
