Chapter 6 - THE TRAP IS SETThe clock was ticking down. We had exactly four hours before the twenty-four-hour holding pattern expired and the fifty million dollars automatically cleared into Viktor Sterling’s overseas accounts.
According to Chloe’s cyber-forensics team, Viktor Sterling was hosting an exclusive gala at the downtown Grand Meridian Hotel that very evening to celebrate the pending acquisition of Harrington Shipping’s Pacific routes—an acquisition he assumed was already sealed.
"He thinks he's already won," I said, standing in front of the full-length mirror in my dressing room as Teresa helped me zip up an exquisite, midnight-blue velvet evening gown embroidered with subtle silver threading. "He thinks he's humiliated the Harrington family and stolen our crown jewel."
Robin stood near the doorway, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, his jaw set like granite. "Mom, are you sure about this? Walking right into Sterling’s stronghold? If he realizes what we're doing before the transfer is intercepted, he could lock us out permanently."
"Viktor Sterling is an arrogant vulture," I replied, turning to face my son and adjusting his tie. "Arrogant men never suspect that the old woman they stepped on is the one holding the loaded gun. We are going to his party, Robin. And we are going to deliver a wedding gift he will never forget."
An hour later, our black Rolls-Royce pulled up under the blazing crystal chandeliers of the Grand Meridian Hotel entrance.
The ballroom was packed with the city’s elite—politicians, CEOs, media moguls, and high-society socialites, all sipping champagne and celebrating the supposed downfall of the Harrington empire. As Robin and I stepped through the double doors, the ambient chatter in the room instantly died down.
Heads turned. Whispers rippled through the crowd like wildfire.
The Harringtons? Why are they here? Didn't the engagement get called off?
Standing near the center of the room, holding a crystal flute of champagne, was Viktor Sterling himself. Beside him, dressed in an extravagant white Dior gown that screamed desperation, was Tabitha.
When Tabitha saw me walking into the ballroom on my son’s arm—looking immaculate, powerful, and completely unshakable—the glass of champagne slipped from her fingers, shattering against the marble floor with a sharp, ringing crash.
Viktor Sterling frowned, stepping forward to shield his niece, his cold, calculating eyes locked onto mine.
"Mrs. Harrington," Sterling said, his voice dripping with oily faux-politeness as he approached us. "To what do we owe the pleasure? I didn't realize bankruptcies came with party invitations."
I stopped a few feet away from him, giving a slow, icy smile that made the powerful billionaire take an involuntary half-step back.
"Good evening, Viktor," I replied smoothly, my voice carrying clearly across the silent ballroom. "I heard you were celebrating a very large acquisition tonight. And a mother simply couldn't miss her former future daughter-in-law's engagement celebration."
Tabitha stepped out from behind her uncle, her face twisted in pure terror and rage. "You... you're not supposed to be here! You lost! We won!"
"Did you, my dear?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
At that exact second, the massive multimedia screens mounted on the walls of the ballroom suddenly flickered. The soft jazz music cut out instantly, replaced by the crisp, clear audio of a recorded phone conversation playing through the massive surround-sound speakers.
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"...Yes, the dummy corporation is already set up in the Cayman Islands," Tabitha’s recorded voice echoed clearly across the entire room, broadcasting every single word of her corporate espionage to every elite guest, journalist, and politician present.
Viktor Sterling’s face turned the color of death.
