Chapter 7 - The Ultimate Bluff
The silence in the Catskill lodge was suffocating. Outside, the wind howled through the pines, driving the rain against the glass like tiny fists. Inside, the only sound was the crackling of the fire and the steady, rhythmic beep of the tablet in Marcus Vance’s hand.
Evander’s gun remained leveled at Marcus’s chest, but the absolute certainty in his posture had fractured.
"You think a dead-man’s switch saves you?" Evander’s voice was dangerously low, a lethal whisper that promised a slow, agonizing death. "If you drop me, Marcus, you think the syndicate will let you walk away with my empire? They want the Zarelli name. They’ll skin you alive and feed you to the dogs in Queens."
Marcus smiled, though a tiny bead of sweat rolled down his temple. He knew he was standing inches from execution.
"The syndicate doesn't want the name anymore, Evander. They want stability," Marcus replied, stepping closer, holding up the tablet. "And I’ve already negotiated the terms. Once Quinn is locked away and your assets are frozen, the board votes me in as CEO. The transition is clean. Legal. Boring."
He looked at me, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph.
"Sorry, sweetheart. You picked the wrong billionaire to fall for."
My heart hammered against my ribs, but a strange, icy calm washed over me. For a year, I had managed Evander’s chaotic life, untangled his contracts, and anticipated his every move. I wasn't just a passive bystander or a helpless pawn.
I looked at the tablet in Marcus’s hand. I noticed the tiny, blinking green light on the corner of the device.
Proxy server active.
"You didn't route the dead-man’s switch to the FBI, Marcus," I said softly, my voice cutting through the room.
Marcus blinked, his smug expression faltering for a microsecond. "Excuse me?"
"You’re too narcissistic to share the credit with federal prosecutors," I took a half-step out from behind Evander, my chin held high. "If you send those files to the feds, they audit everything—including your offshore accounts in the Caymans. You routed the dead-man’s switch to your own personal offshore server so you could blackmail the board later."
Marcus’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. "You talk too much for someone about to spend the rest of her life in an orange jumpsuit."
"She’s right," Evander said suddenly, a dangerous, predatory grin spreading across his face. The hesitation vanished, replaced by the ruthless calculation of the man who had ruled New York’s underworld.
Marcus frowned, glancing back at Evander. "What are you talking about?"
Evander lowered the gun—not down, but sideways—and tapped his left ear. A tiny, flesh-colored earpiece blinked with a faint blue light.
"Did you really think I drove all the way up here without checking the corporate servers first, Marcus?" Evander’s voice dripped with mockery. "While you were monologuing about your brilliant coup, Quinn’s laptop back in the West Village executed a remote override on your offshore accounts. Every penny you stole from the Zarelli trusts over the last five years has just been transferred into a federal forfeiture account."
Marcus went completely gray. He looked down at his tablet, frantically tapping the screen.
The screen flashed red.
ACCESS DENIED. ACCOUNTS FROZEN.
"No," Marcus gasped, his voice cracking. "No, that’s impossible! I encrypted—"
"You used the same encryption key I taught you in 2018," Evander said smoothly, stepping forward with terrifying grace. "People who steal empires always forget to change their passwords."
Panic overtook Marcus. He lunged forward, dropping the tablet and pulling a hidden pistol from his waistband.
He didn't even get the barrel up.
Evander moved with blinding speed. A sharp kick sent Marcus’s gun clattering across the hardwood floor, followed by a devastating left hook that dropped the CFO to his knees with a sickening crunch of breaking cartilage.
Marcus collapsed onto the rug, unconscious before he hit the floor.
May you like
Evander stood over him, breathing heavily, adjusting his cuffs with the calm composure of a man who had just finished a routine business meeting.
He turned his dark, intense gaze toward me.
