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The air inside the grand ballroom of the Grand Hyatt was thick with the scent of expensive champagne, orchid displays, and unchecked hubris. It was Pendelton Dynamics’ 25th Anniversary Gala—a night meant to crown Julian as the next Chief Executive Officer. / Chapter 8 / 8

Chapter 8 - THE FINAL VIEWThree months later.

The Mediterranean sun was warm against my skin. I sat on the private terrace of a villa perched high above the cliffs of Amalfi, Italy. Below, the clear blue ocean waves crashed gently against the rocks—far, far away from the cold, dark sand of Pendelton Beach.

A waiter set down an espresso and a fresh copy of the International Financial Times.

I opened the paper. On page four was a small, column headline:

JULIAN VANE SENTENCED TO 28 YEARS WITHOUT PAROLE FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER AND WIRE FRAUD. MOTHER BEATRICE VANE EVICTED FROM PROPERTY FOLLOWING ASSET FORFEITURE.

I smiled, taking a sip of the warm coffee.

My smartwatch on my wrist vibrated with a discreet notification. I lifted my hand to check the screen:

Geneva Private Trust: Balance Updated.

Available Funds: $12,000,000.00 USD.

Status: Secured & Untraceable.

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Arthur Sterling tapped his leather-wrapped fingers against the steering wheel of his matte-black Bentley, staring at the imposing wrought-iron gates of his own estate. To the world, the Sterling name was synonymous with untouchable wealth, bleeding-edge tech investments, and a picture-perfect modern family. But as the automated gates slid open with a soft, expensive hum, Arthur didn't feel like a master of a universe; he felt like a stranger walking into a trap he had built with his own hands.

Arthur Sterling tapped his leather-wrapped fingers against the steering...

The sound hung in the air, rhythmic and deliberate—tap, tap, tap—reverberating directly through the plaster of the master bedroom's walk-in closet wall.

The sound hung in the air, rhythmic and deliberate—tap, tap, tap—reverbe...

The wind on the balcony was sharp, carrying the bitter, fish-heavy tang of the Boston Harbor. It hit Dileia like a physical blow, cutting right through the thin polyester of her service uniform. She shivered, though she refused to wrap her arms around herself. Doing so would look like weakness, and tonight, weakness was a currency she couldn't afford to spend.

The wind on the balcony was sharp, carrying the bitter, fish-heavy tang...

I unbuckled the smartwatch, looked at it for a brief second, and then tossed it off the edge of the balcony.

I watched it fall, spinning through the air, until it hit the deep blue sea below, sinking silently into the ocean floor—taking the last piece of the past with it forever.

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