Chapter 5 - THE ART OF WAR
Clare did not cry. She did not panic. She simply hung up the phone and looked at Vance.
"Eighty million is pocket change," Clare said coldly. "But the ports? He wants to use my infrastructure to smuggle narcotics on a global scale. If I sign those manifests, I become a cartel asset."
"We can't give him the ports," Vance agreed. "But we have to make him believe you will. We need a tactical distraction."
For the next forty-eight hours, the Malibu estate transformed into a military command center. While Mrs. Gable kept Rose and Lily entertained with movies, baking, and a small army of purchased toys, Clare meticulously plotted the downfall of Hector Reyes.
She agreed to the meet. The location was a deserted shipyard in San Pedro, midnight on a Tuesday.
Clare spent her time securing the girls' future. She drafted new wills, established impenetrable iron-clad trusts, and legally adopted Rose and Lily under maximum privacy seals. If she didn't survive the night, the twins would be the wealthiest, most protected children on the planet.
On the night of the exchange, Clare stood in front of a full-length mirror. She wasn't wearing Chanel today. She wore dark tactical trousers, combat boots, and a form-fitting Kevlar vest beneath a tailored black trench coat.
She walked into the nursery where the girls were sleeping. She brushed a strand of hair from Lily’s face, tracing the crescent birthmark one last time.
"I am bringing your mother home," Clare whispered into the dark room. "I promise you."
Outside, a fleet of armored SUVs was waiting. Vance handed her a sleek, compact Glock 19.
"Safety is off, round in the chamber," Vance instructed. "You only use this if everything goes to hell."
"If we are dealing with Hector Reyes," Clare said, sliding the weapon into her holster, "everything is already in hell. Let's go."
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The drive to San Pedro was silent. The neon lights of Los Angeles blurred past the reinforced windows. Clare’s mind was a steel trap, calculating every possible variable. She was a billionaire CEO; she made hostile takeovers for breakfast. But tonight, the currency wasn't stock options. It was blood.
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