Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Machine
Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Machine
Two weeks passed. Thanks to the unlimited resources of the Sterling medical network, my physical recovery was nothing short of miraculous. The dermal matrix had done its work, leaving my skin smooth and completely free of the deep lacerations Adrian had inflicted. I was able to stand, to walk, and to wear a stunning, structured cream suit for my meeting with the district attorney.
But as the criminal trial approached, a disturbing variable entered the equation.
I was sitting in the secure conference room of my father’s midtown headquarters when Marcus Vance hurried into the room, his expression uncharacteristically tense. He slammed a tablet onto the glass table.
“We have a problem,” Marcus said, looking at my father and then at me. “Adrian didn't show up for his mandatory bail hearing this morning. He skipped his ankle monitor. He’s gone.”
My father’s hand slammed onto the table, making the coffee cups rattle. “How? I paid for twenty-four-hour surveillance on his temporary residence! He was living in a run-down motel in Queens!”
“He had help,” Marcus said, pulling up a series of traffic camera images on the screen. “A shadow network. We tracked a blacked-out, armored transport vehicle picking him up from the motel’s rear exit at 3:00 AM. The vehicle belongs to a private security firm owned by Viktor Dragov.”
The name sent a chill through the room. Viktor Dragov was an infamous international billionaire with deep ties to underground gambling rings and illicit offshore banking. He was a man my father had ruthlessly crushed in a hostile takeover ten years ago, ruining Dragov’s legitimate shipping empire.
“Dragov isn't helping Adrian because he likes him,” I realized aloud, my heart quickening. “He’s using Adrian to get to you, Dad. He knows Adrian has intimate knowledge of our personal lives, our estate security protocols, and my daily routines.”
“Adrian is desperate,” my father said, his jaw tight with fury. “He knows he’s facing twenty years in a federal penitentiary for what he did to you. He has nothing left to lose, which makes him the perfect weapon for a man like Dragov.”
Before my father could call his security chief, my phone—a highly secured, encrypted device provided by Sterling Intel—began to ring. The caller ID was completely blank.
I looked at my father. He nodded grimly, tapping a button on the table to route the call through the room's recording system. I hit accept.
“Evelyn,” Adrian’s voice came through the speakers. It didn't sound like the polished, arrogant voice of the CEO I had married. It was jagged, frantic, and dripping with a psychotic, venomous rage. “Did you really think your billionaire daddy could just erase me? Did you think you could strip me of my dignity and leave me in the gutter?”
“You put yourself in the gutter the moment you lifted that crop, Adrian,” I said, my voice steady, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing my fear. “You’re a fugitive now. It’s over.”
“It’s not over until I say it’s over!” he screamed into the phone, the sound of heavy wind or a running engine in the background. “Your father destroyed my empire, so I’m going to destroy his world. I know where you sleep, Evelyn. I know the security codes to the Sterling penthouse. Dragov gave me a crew and a clean slate. I’m coming to collect the remaining one hundred lashes I owe you, and this time, your father will be forced to watch.”
May you like
The line went dead with a sharp, digital click.
My father stood up, his face an unreadable mask of absolute, lethal intent. He looked at Marcus. “Activate the full protocol. Lock down the city. Bring me every asset we have. If Viktor Dragov wants a war with the Sterling family, I will give him a massacre.”
