Chapter 5 - The Trap SpringsBefore Dominic could process the terrifying, exhilarating weight of her words, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom slammed open once more.
This time, there was no polite gasp.
Four armed men in black tactical suits stepped into the ballroom, holding suppressed submachine guns across their chests. At their head walked Silas Vane himself—tall, silver-haired, wearing a white tuxedo jacket, with a cold, dead smile carved into his face.
“Well, well, well,” Vane’s voice boomed across the high vaulted ceilings, echoing through the terrified silence of the elite patrons. “Dominic Vale, throwing a lovely little party while his entire empire is about to crumble.”
Panic erupted among the guests. Women screamed, diving behind velvet tables and overturning chairs, while politicians scrambled toward the rear service exits.
Grant Mercer turned white as a sheet, pulling a small gold-plated pistol from his jacket. “Vane! How did he get past perimeter security?!”
Dominic didn't draw a weapon. He didn't blink.
He kept his hand locked securely around Evelyn’s wrist, pulling her slightly behind his broad shoulder as he stared down Silas Vane across the ballroom.
“Vane,” Dominic greeted, his voice like grinding stones. “You’re trespassing.”
“Am I?” Vane laughed, walking forward, his enforcers spreading out to cover the exits. “I don't think so, Dominic. In fact, I think I’m right where I need to be. For months, someone inside your organization has been systematically locking me out of my own shell accounts, freezing my assets, and funneling my capital into federal escrow. And today, my hackers finally traced the decryption key.”
Vane stopped ten feet away, pointing a finger directly at Evelyn.
“Right there,” Vane sneered. “The mousy little secretary in the emerald dress. She’s the forensic auditor who gutted my entire operation.”
Every eye in the room shifted back to Evelyn.
Grant stared at her in absolute disbelief. “Evelyn?! You hacked Silas Vane?!”
Evelyn gently pulled her wrist free from Dominic’s grip. She didn't look scared. She smoothed the front of her silk dress with quiet elegance, stepped out from behind Dominic’s protective shield, and faced Silas Vane head-on.
“It wasn't just your accounts I gutted, Mr. Vane,” Evelyn said, her voice carrying clearly across the cavernous room. “It was your shipping manifests, your tax fraud documents, and your human trafficking ledgers. I sent copies of all of them to the Southern District of New York thirty minutes before I walked through those front doors.”
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Vane’s smile vanished. His face twisted into an ugly, murderous rage.
“You bitch,” Vane snarled, drawing his own pistol from his holster and leveling it straight at Evelyn’s chest. “Give me the master drive right now, or I’ll blow a hole straight through your heart.”
