Chapter 7 - The Trap
I carried the laptop into the medical wing, where my father was resting. I turned the screen toward him without a word.
My father looked at the photograph of Arthur. The man who had stood beside him at my mother’s funeral. The man who had walked me down the aisle at my wedding to Julian.
The betrayal was so absolute, so suffocating, that for a long moment, my father couldn't even breathe. When he finally spoke, his voice was the quietest I had ever heard it.
“Arthur is hosting the Geneva summit tomorrow night,” my father said, his eyes completely dead. “He thinks we died in the raid on the estate. He thinks his secrets burned with us.”
“Then we let him continue to think that,” I said, my voice hardening. “We don't just kill him, Papa. We destroy his legacy. We expose the Syndicate to the entire world.”
We formulated a plan. We couldn't trust international authorities; the Syndicate’s roots ran too deep. We had to bait Arthur into a public confession, broadcasted live, ensuring he had absolutely nowhere to hide.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the emerald brooch. The recording device was still perfectly functional.
“I’m going to the summit,” I declared. “I’m going to walk right up to him. He’s going to be so shocked to see me alive that he’ll make a mistake. And when he does, I’ll be recording.”
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“It’s a suicide mission, Evie,” my father argued, trying to sit up. “His security will be impenetrable.”
“They are expecting Marcus Vanguard, the billionaire warlord,” I replied, slipping the emerald brooch onto the collar of my black evening gown. “They aren't expecting a battered, traumatized trophy wife. I am going to end him.”
