Chapter 5 - The Corporate Strike
Eleanor stared at her son in utter disbelief, her chest heaving as the realization set in that Vincent was entirely serious. She smoothed down the lapel of her Chanel jacket, her lips pressed into a thin, furious line.
“You are making the biggest mistake of your life, Vincent,” Eleanor hissed, turning sharply toward the private elevator. “A woman who hid a child from you once will do it again. She doesn't love you; she loves the vault.”
The elevator doors slid shut behind her, cutting off the heavy, poisonous silence she left in her wake.
Vincent exhaled slowly, dragging a hand across his face. When he looked back at Sloan, he expected to see anger, fear, or retreat. Instead, Sloan was standing by the window, staring out at the Manhattan traffic with a look of cold, chilling calculation.
“She’s not wrong, you know,” Sloan said quietly.
“About what?”
“About the danger.” Sloan turned to face him. “Vincent, your mother doesn't lose. If she thinks Willa threatens her legacy, she won't just fight us in family court. She’ll use the corporate board. She still controls twelve percent of the voting shares.”
“Let her try,” Vincent said, his jaw tightening. “I control fifty-one percent. Hale Holdings answers to me.”
“Not if she bankrupts you first.”
Vincent walked over to her, stopping just inches away. “What are you talking about?”
“While you were busy playing domestic hero this week, your chief financial officer, Arthur Sterling, has been liquidating subsidiary assets in Zurich,” Sloan said, her eyes flashing with sharp intelligence. “My father taught me how to read offshore balance sheets before I could drive, Vincent. Sterling is working with your mother. They’re positioning a hostile takeover while you’re distracted here with us.”
Vincent stared at her, stunned not just by the revelation, but by the fact that Sloan—the woman he had thought he knew entirely—was holding the key to saving his entire empire.
“How do you know this?”
“Because Arthur Sterling called my old law firm yesterday asking if I wanted to retain counsel for a ‘imminent financial restructuring’ of Hale Holdings,” Sloan said bitterly. “They thought I was still bitter enough to sign over my marital settlement rights to help them sink you.”
A dark, dangerous smile slowly spread across Vincent’s face. It wasn't the smile of a grieving ex-husband; it was the smile of a apex predator who had just realized his enemies had walked into a trap.
“They think I’m distracted,” Vincent whispered, his eyes locking onto hers with burning intensity. “They think a baby made me soft.”
“Did it?” Sloan asked softly, testing him.
May you like
Vincent reached out, his hand cupping the back of her neck, pulling her just close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“It didn't make me soft, Sloan,” he murmured against her ear. “It gave me something worth destroying them for.”
