Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Plaza
The next morning, the doctor signed my discharge papers under strict orders of bed rest. I refused to return to the penthouse Callum and I shared in Tribeca. Instead, Jude drove me directly to the Sterling family estate in Greenwich, Connecticut—a fortress of limestone and iron gates that Callum had no legal right to enter.
By noon, my phone was vibrating continuously.
Callum had sent six text messages:
*Elena, where are you? The maids said you never came back to Tribeca.*
*Did you sign the papers? Paige’s lawyer is asking for the signed NDA by 5 PM.*
*Stop acting like a child. Pick up your phone.*
*If you embarrass me at the Investors' Gala tomorrow night, you will regret it.*
I looked at the screen and swiped every message into an encrypted archive folder Marcus had set up. I didn't reply to a single word.
Instead, I sat in my father’s old mahogany-paneled study with Marcus and an elite forensic accountant named Sarah Lin. On the four monitors spread across the desk, Sarah was tracing the digital financial trail Paige Renshaw had left behind.
"It’s brilliant, but sloppy," Sarah Lin remarked, clicking rapidly on her keyboard. "Paige was transferring tranches of $49,000 every week—just below the fifty-thousand-dollar threshold that requires dual-sign-off by Callum and the Chief Financial Officer. She labeled them 'Consulting Fees for Alpha Strategy Optimization' paid to Apex Global."
"And where did that money ultimately go?" I asked, sipping warm mint tea.
"Directly into an offshore trust registered in the Cayman Islands," Sarah replied, rotating a monitor toward me. "The beneficiary of that trust is a numbered company owned by Julian Cross. But that’s not the real prize, Elena."
Sarah brought up an internal server transfer log dated three days ago.
"Paige downloaded the source code for Hargrove Capital’s Project Prometheus," Sarah explained. "It’s Callum’s multi-billion-dollar predictive AI trading engine. The engine that manages four billion dollars in institutional pension funds. If Julian Cross gets this source code, he can front-run every trade Callum’s firm executes. Hargrove Capital wouldn't just lose clients—they would face total collapse within forty-eight hours."
"Does Callum have any idea?" Jude asked from the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest.
"None," Sarah said. "Callum signed off on the security clearance because Paige told him she needed access to audit the machine-learning models. He literally gave his mistress the key to the vault."
"And when is she scheduled to deliver the drive to Cross?" I asked.
Jude stepped forward, checking his phone. "My contacts inside the Plaza Hotel security team confirmed something interesting. Julian Cross has booked the Presidential Suite on the fourteenth floor for tomorrow night’s gala. And Miss Renshaw reserved a private conference room directly on the thirteenth floor under a dummy corporate name."
"She’s handing it over during the gala," I realized. "While Callum is on stage giving his keynote speech celebrating the firm's record profits."
"It gets better," Marcus added, sliding a fresh document across the desk. "I just received confirmation from the state prosecutor’s office. The detective assigned to the pool incident reviewed the 4K footage Jude provided. They’ve already prepared an arrest warrant for Paige Renshaw for filing a false police report and attempted extortion. And they have opened a formal investigation into Callum Hargrove for felony reckless endangerment."
"Can they hold off on the arrest until tomorrow night?" I asked Marcus.
"They agreed to execute the warrant at 9:30 PM tomorrow," Marcus replied, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Right in the middle of Callum’s presentation. The media will be in the room."
I looked down at the white silk maternity gown hanging against the wardrobe—a stunning, elegant piece designed by an Italian couture house, originally intended to make me look like the proud, glowing wife of Wall Street’s golden boy.
"Jude," I said softly.
"Yes, Mrs. Hargrove?"
"Call the Plaza’s event coordinator. Inform them that despite the rumors, Mrs. Callum Hargrove will be attending the gala tomorrow night."
A rare smirk appeared on Jude’s lips. "Understood."
"And Marcus?"
"Yes, Elena?"
May you like
"Make sure the video feed from the service entrance is patched into the main ballroom’s multi-million-dollar presentation screen. When Callum starts bragging about loyalty and integrity, I want three hundred billionaires to see exactly what he values most."
***
