Chapter 1 - THE BOARDROOM INVITATIONThe rain hammered against the glass windows of the Kincaid Enterprises headquarters like a relentless countdown. I adjusted my cuffs, standing before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my private office on the forty-second floor. Everything looked pristine, meticulously organized, exactly how my mother, Daria Kincaid, had trained me to keep it.
For two years, I had played my part to perfection. I was the grieving widower, the dutiful son who allowed his mother to shoulder the burden of the corporate empire while I supposedly drowned in melancholy. They thought grief had broken me. In reality, it had forged me into a weapon.
My phone buzzed against my thigh. A secure ping from my private intelligence director, Vance.
“Federal warrants are signed. Judge has greenlit the search and seizure for Daria’s private residence and corporate accounts. We move at midnight.”
I suppressed a cold smile. Tonight, the empire my mother built on deception, coercion, and murder would crumble.
The double doors to my office clicked open, and Daria stepped inside. She wore a tailored crimson coat that commanded the room, her silver hair styled into an immaculate chignon. Despite her age, her eyes were razor-sharp, carrying the terrifying authority of a woman who ruled a billion-dollar conglomerate with an iron fist.
“Samuel,” she said, her voice smooth and devoid of genuine warmth. “The board members are already seated in the main dining hall. You look composed. Good. Tonight is about projecting strength. Investors are nervous; they need to see that the Kincaid legacy remains unshakable.”
“I’m ready, Mother,” I replied, keeping my voice carefully measured, channeling the obedient son she thought she knew.
She paused, stepping closer to inspect my lapel. Her perfume—expensive, suffocatingly sweet—wafted over me. For a fleeting second, her gaze lingered on my face, searching for any crack in my facade.
“You seem different tonight, Samuel. A strange kind of energy,” she murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly.
“Just tired of the ghosts, Mother,” I said smoothly, meeting her gaze without flinching. “Maybe tonight, I finally put them to rest.”
May you like
Daria’s lips twitched into a thin, satisfied smile. She patted my arm patronizingly. “That’s my boy. Come along. Let’s show them who runs this city.”
As we walked down the grand mahogany-paneled hallway toward the elevator, I thought of Catherine and little Penelope locked safely inside the penthouse suite. The trap was set. The cheese was placed. Now, all we had to do was watch the predator walk right into the cage.
