Chapter 7 - The Deadline
At 11:55 a.m. the next day, a sleek black town car pulled up outside The Hearth bakery.
The city had slapped condemnation notices all over my windows, exactly as Julian had promised.
I stood on the sidewalk, holding a simple manila folder, waiting for him.
Julian stepped out of the car, wearing a smug, victorious smile.
Victoria was right behind him, wrapping her expensive fur coat tightly against the chill.
"Well, Eleanor," Julian sneered, checking his gold watch.
"You have five minutes left. Where is Clara?"
"Clara isn't coming," I said calmly, crossing my arms.
Victoria let out a harsh, mocking laugh.
"Then you are a fool," she spat. "Your business is gone. You are destitute. We won."
"Did you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
I tossed the manila folder onto the hood of his expensive car.
"You might want to look at that before you celebrate."
Julian frowned, his arrogant facade slipping slightly as he picked up the folder.
He flipped it open, and all the color instantly drained from his handsome face.
"Where did you get this?" he choked out, his hands trembling.
"You left it in your study," I replied smoothly.
"And by the way, Julian, you really should use a harder passcode than your own birthday."
Victoria peered over his shoulder and gasped, clutching her pearls in genuine terror.
"This is fake! This is slander!" she shrieked.
"The FBI didn't think so," I informed them.
"Neither did the Boston Globe. In fact, the story went live on their website about ten minutes ago."
Julian's phone suddenly began to vibrate wildly in his pocket.
He pulled it out, staring at the screen with wide, panicked eyes.
May you like
"It's the board of directors," he whispered.
"They know."
