Chapter 35 - the queen of shadows
The hydraulic charge blew the heavy steel door off its hinges with an earsplitting crack. Smoke poured into the bridge as Roman entered, weapon raised, Vance covering the rear exit.
Eleanor didn't flinch. She didn't drop the satellite phone. She merely turned slowly, her emerald eyes—the exact shade of Clara’s—sweeping over Roman’s weapon before settling on Clara with an expression of mild, disappointed amusement.
"You always did have your father's stubborn streak, Clara," Eleanor spoke, her voice smooth, refined, and entirely devoid of human warmth. "I left you enough dignity to leave the city quietly. Yet you dragged Roman Mercer all the way out into freezing water just to throw another childish tantrum."
"Dignity?" Clara stepped into the center of the bridge, her voice razor-sharp, cutting through the wail of the ship's alarms. "You had your hired thugs shred my dress at the charity gala. You evicted me from my home, froze every penny of my father’s trust, and left a brain-damaged stranger to rot in your place so no one would look for you."
Eleanor let out a delicate, musical laugh. "The gala was Julian’s clumsy idea. The boy had no finesse. But the rest? It was business. Your father was weak, Clara. He believed in ethics, in legacy, in charity. Weak men build fortunes; strong women know how to harvest them."
On the floor, Gregory groaned, lifting his bruised face. "Clara... she’s lying... she never intended to pay anyone... she’s uploading the private master keys right now..."
"Shut up, Gregory," Eleanor said calmly, raising a pearl-handled derringer from her pocket and firing a shot directly into the floor an inch from the lawyer's knee. Gregory cried out, pressing his forehead against the decking.
May you like
Eleanor turned her gaze back to Roman. "And you. The loyal Mercer hound. Did your father teach you nothing before he took his swim in the river? You think you can stand between me and eight hundred million dollars?"
"I don't need to stand between you and the money, Eleanor," Roman said, stepping forward with deliberate, predatory calmness. "Because you're not walking off this ship with a single dollar."
