flash
The screech of the chopper’s rotor blades vibrated directly through the freezing slate beneath my spine. The blinding white vortex of snow kicked up by the downdraft burned my eyes, but I forced my lids open, locking my gaze onto the amber visor of the rescue specialist dropping out of the sky. / Chapter 17 / 30

Chapter 17 - The Mastermind Unmasked

I kept my weapon raised, advancing cautiously through the snow until I stood over the fallen figure.

The moonlight broke through the dark clouds, illuminating the face of the man bleeding out on the mountain floor.

It wasn't a stranger.

It was Thomas Sterling—my senior venture partner, the man who had sat beside me on the board, comforted me in the boardroom, and sworn loyalty to Carter Global Holdings.

"Thomas..." I breathed, lowering my pistol slightly in sheer shock. "You?"

Thomas coughed, a thin stream of blood spilling across his lips. A bitter, twisted smile touched his mouth.

"It was always my empire, Elena," he rasped, his voice weak. "I found the insurance policy... I put the idea in Michael’s weak, greedy head. But he botched it. He let you live."

"You funded the whole thing," I said, cold fury replacing my shock. "Julian, Ashley, Michael—they were all just pawns in your game to seize complete control of the firm."

"And you... you just had to come back from the dead," Thomas whispered, his eyes rolling back as his breathing shallowly faded.

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I stepped past the door frame, my leather shoes clicking softly against the linoleum floor.

I stepped past the door frame, my leather shoes clicking softly against...

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking against the pristine hospital linoleum. He reached for the tray table, his fingers brushing the edge of the papers. His voice was low, coated in a practiced, corporate calm that made my stomach churn worse than the spiked blood pressure.

Daniel stepped toward the bed, his polished leather shoes squeaking agai...

The silence in the dining room stretched thin, heavy enough to slice with a butter knife. Robert, Michael’s father, adjusted his napkin, completely oblivious to the silent war being fought across the porcelain plates.

The silence in the dining room stretched thin, heavy enough to slice wit...

He drew one final, ragged breath, and then the mountain fell completely silent.

I stood alone in the dark, looking down at the architect of my nightmare. The circle was closed. The mastermind was gone.

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