Chapter 5 - THE STERLING VENDETTA
The silence in the guest room was deafening, broken only by the sound of the rain lashing against the windowpanes.
Olivia stared at the heavy silver coin in her father’s hand, the room spinning violently around her. David. Her David. The man whose death had shattered her world a decade ago wasn't just a struggling architect like he had claimed. He was a Sterling. He was the heir to her father’s greatest enemy.
"He lied to me," Olivia whispered, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. "David lied to me about who he was. Just like Ethan did."
"David was ashamed of his family's ruthless tactics," Richard said quietly, slipping the coin into his pocket. "He wanted to build his own life. When I found out who he really was, I warned him to stay away from you. I thought he was trying to infiltrate our company through you. We had a terrible argument the night he died. He drove off in a rage. I have carried that guilt for ten years, Olivia. I thought my anger caused his crash."
"It wasn't your anger," Olivia said, her voice turning to ice. She pulled the private investigator's dossier from where she had tucked it under her arm and handed it to her father. "Ethan was having David tracked. Three days before the crash."
Richard opened the file. As his eyes scanned the invoice, a terrifying, lethal darkness settled over the billionaire's features.
"Miranda isn't a random mistress," Olivia continued, the horrifying puzzle finally clicking into place. "She’s David’s sister. She blames our family for his death. She spent ten years orchestrating this. She found Ethan, the man who was secretly stalking David, the man who swooped in to marry me when I was vulnerable. She didn't just sleep with my husband. She weaponized him to destroy me."
"And Ethan went along with it," Julian sneered from the doorway, his fists clenched. "Why? Why blow up his marriage and his life for a Sterling vendetta?"
"Because of his debt," Richard deduced, his business acumen sharp as a scalpel. "The bank didn't freeze Ethan's accounts because of bad investments. I looked at the ledger before I bought his debt. Ethan has been embezzling money from his own clients for five years. Millions. If it gets out, he goes to federal prison. Miranda must hold the proof. She’s blackmailing him."
Olivia felt sick. Her entire adult life—her marriage, her modest home, the man she thought loved her—was a carefully constructed cage built by her enemies. She had been a pawn in a billionaire blood feud she didn't even know she was fighting.
"Mommy, are you okay?" Lily asked, tugging on Olivia's gown.
Olivia looked down at her daughter. The innocent, confused eyes of the child she had brought into this toxic web gave her exactly what she needed: clarity. There was no more time for tears. There was only time for war.
"I'm perfectly fine, my love," Olivia said, forcing a warm, reassuring smile. She picked Lily up, holding her tightly. She looked at her father. "Take her to the London estate. Tonight. Put her on the private jet with Julian. I want her an ocean away from Ethan and Miranda."
"I'm not leaving you here alone," Julian protested.
"You're protecting my daughter," Olivia commanded, a newfound authority ringing in her voice that made even her father proud. "Pierce and Dad will stay with me. We are going to rip Ethan’s life apart until he gives us Miranda."
An hour later, Olivia stood in the center of the modest, four-bedroom colonial house she had shared with Ethan for seven years. It smelled of vanilla candles and his expensive cologne. It made her skin crawl.
While Pierce stood guard at the front door, Olivia tore through Ethan’s home office. She ripped drawers out of the desk, smashed framed diplomas, and tore through filing cabinets. If Ethan was being blackmailed by Miranda, a coward like him would keep an insurance policy. Something he could use against her if she pushed him too far.
She found nothing in the desk. Nothing in the safe hidden behind the bookshelf.
Frustrated, she walked into their master bedroom. Her eyes landed on the top shelf of her closet. Sitting there, collecting dust, was a large, white preservation box containing her wedding dress.
Ethan had always been weirdly protective of that box. He insisted on moving it himself whenever they reorganized the closet.
Olivia dragged the heavy box down, letting it hit the floor with a thud. She ripped the lid off, tearing through the layers of acid-free tissue paper. The delicate, modest lace gown she had worn seven years ago stared back at her, a ghost of a lie.
She ran her hands violently over the fabric, feeling the bodice, the sleeves, the heavy tulle skirt.
Suddenly, her fingers brushed against something hard hidden deep within the thick, padded lining of the corset.
She grabbed a pair of sewing scissors from her vanity and slashed the delicate silk wide open.
Resting inside the ruined fabric was a small, heavy brass key, stamped with the logo of a high-end Swiss private bank in Manhattan, and a four-digit access code written on a scrap of paper.
Olivia stared at it, her heart pounding. Ethan hadn't just hidden a key. He had hidden it inside the symbol of her blind trust in him.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was an unknown number.
She answered it, saying nothing.
"Olivia," Ethan’s voice came through the speaker, breathless and laced with raw, unadulterated panic. "Listen to me. You have to listen to me. She’s insane. Miranda is completely insane."
"Where are you, Ethan?" Olivia asked coldly.
"It doesn't matter. She double-crossed me. She has men looking for me right now. They're going to kill me, Liv." He sounded like he was weeping. "I know you found the key. I had an alert set on the closet door. You need to get what's in that safety deposit box and bring it to me. It's the only thing keeping me alive."
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"Why would I do anything to save your pathetic life?" Olivia sneered.
"Because," Ethan gasped, "if you don't bring me what's in that box by midnight... Miranda’s men are going to release the brake lines on the black Maybach currently driving your daughter to the airport."
