Chapter 15 - The Mastermind’s Reveal
"Victoria," Daniel snarled, stepping in front of Keller and his men, his weapon leveled directly at her chest. "Pulaski State Prison transferred you to a medical ward in Macon two days ago. How are you standing here?"
Victoria laughed—a melodic, terrifying sound that bounced off the sterile white walls. "Oh, Daniel. You always were brilliant with balance sheets, but so wonderfully naive about how power truly works in this state. Do you really think a woman with my resources spends twenty-five years in a state facility because a fatuous little brat jumped on my silicone belly in front of two hundred drunk socialites?"
Her smile vanished, replaced by an expression of pure, cold malice.
"The St. Regis incident was a minor inconvenience, Daniel. An embarrassing tactical retreat. But did you honestly think I acted alone? Did you really believe a former model from Savannah orchestrated an eighty-million-dollar corporate infiltration all by herself?"
"Who is funding you?" Marcus demanded, his gun drawn.
"Look through the glass, Detective," Victoria said, gesturing languidly toward the room where Eleanor lay unconscious. "Ask yourself who benefits the most from keeping Eleanor Saint-Claire in an induced coma for five years while Daniel Sterling slowly surrendered control of the family board."
Daniel’s blood turned to ice. "The board... Julian."
"Give the man a prize," Victoria purred.
Julian Croft. Eleanor’s cousin. The quiet, self-effacing executor of the Saint-Claire charitable trust who had tearfully hugged Daniel at Eleanor’s empty funeral, who had insisted Daniel take a leave of absence to heal, and who had personally introduced Victoria to Daniel at the Atlanta Symphony Gala sixteen months later.
"Julian wanted the European syndicate paid off," Victoria explained, walking slowly down the corridor, her bodyguards keeping their weapons locked on Daniel’s team. "Eleanor wouldn't allow the trust to be liquidated. She was going to blow the whistle on Julian’s money laundering. So Julian arranged the car crash. But there was one tiny legal snag—Eleanor had transferred the secondary authorization codes to a physical safety deposit box that requires her biometric signature to open every five years."
Victoria paused, her eyes gleaming with triumph.
"Today is the five-year mark, Daniel. In exactly two hours, the trust resets. If Eleanor doesn't place her palm on the portable reader Julian brought down from Atlanta, the entire four hundred million reverts to a public trust overseen by the state of Georgia. Ethan gets nothing. Julian gets nothing. And I get nothing."
"Where is Julian?" Daniel demanded, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"He's already in the room with your son," Victoria whispered.
Daniel’s world stopped spinning. The air left his lungs in a violent gasp. "What did you say?"
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"Did you really think we didn't track your little mountain paradise?" Victoria smirked, tilting her head. "You brought your little private army down to Savannah to rescue your dead wife. Which left your picturesque little cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains completely, utterly unprotected."
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