Chapter 6 - THE VIPER'S NEST
By the time the sun rose over Lake Michigan, the storm had broken, leaving the city washed clean and freezing under a pale morning light. But inside my penthouse, the heat was dialed up to a suffocating level.
I hadn't slept. I was standing in my kitchen, nursing a third cup of black espresso, watching the news on the wall-mounted television.
"...unconfirmed reports of a shooting at a Gold Coast townhouse late last night. Police responded to a noise complaint at a property on Astor Street, finding the residence ransacked. Authorities are currently searching for a person of interest..."
I muted the television, a cold shiver running down my spine. The Volkovs had found the townhouse. Marcus’s interception had saved Ethan’s life—temporarily, at least. If we had arrived an hour later, the Russians would have found him packing his bags.
"They missed him," Vance said, walking into the kitchen, his eyes bloodshot from staring at screens all night. "The police didn't find a body, and Ethan's phone has been completely dark since we left Astor Street. He dumped his tracker."
"He's in the wind," Marcus added, standing by the window, scanning the street below with tactical binoculars. "He knows the Russians are actively hunting him. He won't go to the police because they'll arrest him for the break-in and money laundering. He's cornered."
"What about Victoria?" I asked, gripping my coffee mug.
Sarah walked in from the living room, holding her tablet. "Victoria is currently making a scene at the lobby of the Four Seasons. Her cards were declined for the room. She's been kicked out. She's desperately trying to call her high-society friends, but word travels fast in Chicago. Nobody wants to touch a woman whose assets have been frozen by a federal injunction. She's radioactive."
I smiled, a slow, predatory curving of my lips. Victoria was finally experiencing the world without a safety net. She was learning that her pristine reputation was built entirely on my bank account, and without it, she was just an angry, irrelevant woman in a mink coat.
"Bring her here," I ordered.
Sarah blinked, surprised. "Bring Victoria to the penthouse? Emma, is that a good idea? She's hysterical and vindictive."
"It's exactly the right idea," I countered, setting my mug down. "Ethan is terrified and running out of time. He needs leverage. He needs money to run, or he needs to convince the Volkovs that I am the one holding their cash. If Victoria is out on the streets, she is a prime target for the Russians to kidnap and use as a bargaining chip against Ethan. Or worse, against me."
Marcus nodded slowly in agreement. "If the Volkovs grab the mother, Ethan will fold. He'll offer to testify that you forced him to launder the money, setting you up to take the fall in exchange for her life. We need to control the board. Victoria is a piece we can't leave exposed."
"Send your men to collect her, Marcus," I said. "Tell her if she wants to survive the day without ending up in a trunk, she comes with you. Tell her I have a proposition."
An hour later, the private elevator chimed.
Marcus stepped out, followed by a deeply humiliated, exhausted, and furious Victoria Sterling. Her hair was disheveled, her makeup was smudged, and she was clutching a single designer overnight bag—the only possession she had left.
When she saw me standing in the foyer, her eyes flashed with pure venom.
"You did this," Victoria spat, her voice trembling with rage. "You froze my accounts! You ruined my credit! You are trying to destroy my family out of spite!"
"Hello to you too, Victoria," I said calmly, gesturing to the living room. "Take a seat. We need to have a very blunt conversation about your son's life expectancy."
Victoria hesitated, intimidated by Marcus, who stood silently by the door. She walked stiffly into the living room and sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, looking around my penthouse with a mixture of envy and hatred.
"Where is Ethan?" she demanded. "I've been trying to call him all night. He isn't answering. The police are looking for him regarding a shooting at a property I didn't even know he owned!"
"He's hiding," I said, sitting in the armchair opposite her. "Because the Russian mob—the Volkov syndicate—is actively hunting him. They raided his mistress's townhouse last night. They missed him by an hour."
Victoria gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The reality of the situation finally seemed to pierce her armor of entitlement. "Mistress? Russian mob? Emma, what are you talking about? Ethan is a legitimate real estate developer!"
"Ethan is a fraud, Victoria," I said, my voice hard and unforgiving. "He hasn't sold a piece of real estate in three years. He has been using my computer network to launder millions of dollars for a violent criminal syndicate, while secretly buying million-dollar townhouses for a twenty-five-year-old interior designer."
Victoria shook her head violently, tears spilling over her eyelashes. "No. No, my son wouldn't do that. You are lying! You set him up!"
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, locking eyes with the woman who had made my life a living hell. "I have the forensic data, Victoria. I have the cold storage wallet he tried to flee with last night. The FBI is going to have enough evidence to put him in federal prison for twenty years. But that's only if he survives the day. The Volkovs want their thirty million dollars. And right now, Ethan doesn't have it."
"Then give it to him!" Victoria cried, completely abandoning her pride in the face of her son's impending death. "You have billions, Emma! You can pay them! You can save him!"
I stared at her, utterly disgusted by her audacity. Even now, facing absolute ruin, she expected me to open my wallet and fix their problems. She expected me to pay off a mob debt to save the man who had cheated on me, robbed me, and framed me for federal crimes.
"I am not paying a dime," I whispered, my voice dripping with ice. "But I will offer you a deal, Victoria."
She sniffled, looking at me desperately. "What deal?"
"I know Ethan will try to contact you," I said. "He has no one else left. When he calls, you are going to tell him you are safe in my penthouse. You are going to tell him that I am willing to hand over the cold wallet containing the cryptocurrency, but only if he turns himself into the FBI and signs a full, written confession exonerating me completely."
Victoria's eyes widened in horror. "You want me to tell my son to surrender to federal authorities? He'll go to prison!"
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"He'll go to a highly secure federal facility," I corrected. "Which is the only place the Volkovs can't put a bullet in his head. You have a choice, Victoria. You can play your part, secure his confession, and keep him alive in a cell. Or you can walk out that door, try to help him run, and watch the Russians bury him in a shallow grave. The choice is yours."
I sat back in my chair, watching the mighty Victoria Sterling break entirely. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with loud, ugly sobs. The viper's nest had finally been burned to the ground, and I was holding the match.
