Chapter 1 - The Phantom in the Bentley
The man in the back of the Bentley was not a stranger, though it took me three agonizing seconds to place the face behind the silver-trimmed beard. Arthur Vance. The reclusive billionaire shipping tycoon, corporate sniper, and my father’s oldest, most estranged rival.
When my father died bankrupt and broken, driven out of the shipping lanes by hostile takeovers, the industry whispered that Arthur Vance had pulled the trigger.
"Clara," he said, his voice like grinding stones wrapped in silk. He didn’t wait for me to answer. He pushed the heavy leather door open from the inside. "Get in before you freeze. And before the Whitmore security team realizes you've spent more than two minutes lingering on their cobblestones."
"I don't need your charity, Mr. Vance," I managed, clutching the handle of my battered suitcase.
"It isn't charity, child. It’s an investment." He looked down pointedly at my abdomen, then back to my face with a terrifying, piercing clarity. "And judging by the way you’re shielding your stomach in freezing wind, you are carrying inventory that the Whitmores don't deserve to own."
May you like
My breath hitched. How could he possibly know?
"Get in the car, Clara," Arthur repeated softly, his eyes flashing with a cold, predatory intelligence. "Raymond thinks he discarded a piece of trash tonight. Let’s go teach him what a real liquidation looks like."
