Chapter 6 - The Viper's Nest
Harper stepped into the luxurious VIP lounge, wearing a simple black dress Leo had found for her. She looked tiny against the heavy mahogany walls, but her chin was held high.
Arthur Sterling took a stumbling step backward, knocking his glass of scotch off the table. It shattered against the floor.
“Margaret…” Arthur whispered, staring at Harper as if he had just seen a ghost.
“Margaret was my mother,” Harper said, her voice steady. “You barely even remember her face, do you?”
Evelyn’s eyes darted frantically around the room. “Dad, don’t listen to her! Guards!”
“Your guards are busy,” Vincent said calmly. He tapped the unlocked burner phone. “Leo locked the external doors. The Feds are too busy drinking your champagne out there to notice.”
Vincent tapped the screen of the unlocked phone, navigating straight to the email application.
“Let’s see what we have here,” Vincent mused loudly. “Ah. Email chains to the hospital administrator in Ohio. Explicit instructions on altering a morphine drip. Wire transfers. And here… the ledger proving you paid off the federal task force to frame me.”
“You’re going to die in this room, Romano,” Evelyn sneered. She reached into her emerald gown, her hand resting on the small of her back.
Vincent didn’t flinch. “If I die, this phone automatically forwards everything to the FBI Director in Washington, bypassing your local task force completely. It’s over, Evelyn.”
Arthur sank into a leather armchair, rubbing his temples. He looked suddenly like a very old, very broken man.
“How much?” Arthur asked, his voice hollow. “How much money do you want, Harper? Tell me a number. I’ll write the check right now. Just give me the phone and the watch, and disappear.”
Harper looked at the billionaire. She didn’t look angry anymore. She just looked deeply, profoundly sad.
“You think you can buy your way out of killing my mother?” she asked softly.
“I didn’t kill your mother!” Arthur shouted, slamming his fist on the armrest. “I didn’t know!”
Harper froze. Vincent looked at Arthur.
“What do you mean, you didn’t know?” Vincent demanded.
Arthur pointed a shaking finger at Evelyn. “I told her to handle the NDA! I told her to pay the woman off quietly! I never ordered a hit!”
The room went dead silent.
Vincent slowly turned his head to look at his fiancée.
Evelyn was standing perfectly still. The mask of the polished, beautiful socialite was completely gone, replaced by something cold, jagged, and utterly terrifying.
“She was a loose end,” Evelyn said simply. Her voice didn't even tremble. “You were weak, Dad. You were going to let a bastard child from Ohio ruin the Sterling name. I protected us.”
“By committing murder?” Arthur gasped.
“By doing what had to be done!” Evelyn screamed, her composure finally breaking. She glared at Harper with pure, unadulterated hatred. “You think you deserve to be a Sterling? You’re nothing. You’re a waitress. You’re trash.”
Evelyn’s hand whipped out from behind her back.
Silver flashed in the dim light. A derringer pistol. Small, pearl-handled, and aimed directly at Harper’s chest.
“Evelyn, drop it!” Vincent shouted, his own weapon clearing his holster in a fraction of a second.
But he was too far.
Evelyn pulled the trigger.
Click.
Evelyn froze. She pulled the trigger again.
Click.
She stared down at the gun in disbelief.
Leo stepped out from the shadows near the door, tossing a handful of tiny silver bullets onto the floor. They clattered like rain against the hardwood.
“Your bodyguard, Marcus. He wasn't very loyal at the end,” Leo said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Before he died, he mentioned you always carry a backup piece in your evening gowns. I took the liberty of emptying the chamber while you were distracted by the ice sculpture.”
Evelyn dropped the empty gun. She took a step back, her chest heaving. She looked at her father, then at Vincent. She was completely cornered.
“You can’t do this to me,” Evelyn whispered, tears finally welling in her eyes. “Vincent, please. I love you.”
Vincent looked at the woman he had almost married. He felt nothing. No anger, no heartbreak. Just a cold, empty relief.
“You don’t love anyone, Evelyn,” Vincent said. He pressed a button on the burner phone. Send.
“What did you just do?” Arthur asked, his face pale.
“I just sent the files to the Department of Justice,” Vincent said. He turned toward the door. “And I unlocked the lobby doors.”
Right on cue, the heavy mahogany doors of the VIP lounge were kicked open.
Five federal agents in tactical gear stormed the room, weapons drawn. But they weren't the corrupt local task force. They wore FBI windbreakers with Washington D.C. badges.
“Arthur Sterling! Evelyn Sterling!” the lead agent shouted. “Hands where we can see them!”
Evelyn let out a piercing scream as two agents forced her against the wall, slapping cold steel handcuffs onto her wrists. Arthur didn’t resist. He simply held his hands out, his eyes locked on Harper, who was watching him with quiet dignity.
Vincent stepped aside, letting the agents do their work.
He looked down at his own wrists, waiting for the inevitable. He was a mob boss. He knew the files proved he was framed, but his hands weren't exactly clean.
The lead agent walked up to Vincent. He looked at him for a long moment.
“Mr. Romano,” the agent said.
“Agent,” Vincent replied calmly.
The agent pulled an envelope from his jacket and handed it to Vincent. “The Director says thank you for cleaning up the corruption in our Chicago field office. Your shipping yards are being un-frozen as we speak. Have a good evening.”
Vincent took the envelope. He watched as Evelyn was dragged screaming out of the room, her emerald gown dragging across the floor, her empire burning to ashes around her.
He turned to look for Harper.
May you like
She was standing by the window, clutching the silver watch, watching the police cars swarm Michigan Avenue below.
It was over.
