Chapter 2 - The Clock Runs Out
The grand ballroom of the St. Regis was draped in white silk and cascading hydrangeas, an opulent facade paid for with money the Bennett family simply did not possess. I stepped back inside through the frosted glass doors, smoothing the front of my charcoal couture dress. My pulse was remarkably steady. For twenty-seven years, boardrooms and ruthless competitors had tried to intimidate me; men far more intelligent and infinitely more dangerous than Richard Bennett had attempted to break Carter Holdings. None of them had succeeded. A pampered, violent boy with an inflated ego was not going to be the first.
In the center of the hall, Richard stood near the champagne tower, surrounded by his groomsmen and cousins. They were dressed in matching black tuxedos, laughing loudly, their voices carrying over the delicate chamber music. Richard held a crystal flute in one hand, his posture oozing casual cruelty.
"I’m telling you, it’s all about setting boundaries from day one," Richard was saying, loud enough for the nearby tables to hear. Several of his older relatives nodded with sickening approval. "A woman needs to know who leads the household. A little firm pressure behind closed doors, and suddenly she remembers her place. Isn't that right, gentlemen?"
A few of his friends snickered into their drinks. Beside them sat Emily at the sweetheart table. She was completely isolated, her head bowed, staring down at her untouched plate of seared sea bass. The concealer beneath her eyes had begun to crease, revealing the sickening yellowish-purple edge of a contusion across her left cheekbone. Every time Richard raised his voice, her shoulders twitched. My heart fractured into a thousand shards, but the agony forged instantly into cold, unyielding iron.
I walked toward the main table, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor.
Richard’s mother, Evelyn Bennett, intercepted me with a patronizing smirk, swirling her pinot noir. "Margaret, darling. You really ought to smile. You look like you're attending a funeral instead of celebrating the greatest day of your daughter's life. It isn’t every day a girl from a quiet background marries into a legacy like ours."
"A legacy, Evelyn?" I paused, looking down at her diamond-encrusted necklace—a piece I knew had been purchased on credit three months ago. "Is that what you call it?"
"We built this town's infrastructure," Evelyn said, her voice rising in defense. "Richard is carrying on his father’s work. Emily should consider herself blessed. He’s taking her in hand. Young women these days are so undisciplined."
"He struck her, Evelyn." I kept my voice low, icy, and lethal. "He stood on the chapel steps and bragged about bruising my only child."
Evelyn didn't even flinch. Instead, she offered a dismissive wave of her hand. "Passionate tempers, Margaret. Richard has an executive temperament. Harold was the exact same way with me when we were newlyweds. You adapt. You accept your husband's authority, especially when he provides a roof over your head. Besides, what could you possibly know about keeping a strong man happy?"
Before I could answer, Harold Bennett joined his wife. He placed an oily hand on my shoulder, which I promptly shrugged off. His eyes narrowed slightly, but his theatrical grin remained plastered across his face.
"Margaret, let's talk practicalities," Harold said, stepping uncomfortably close. "Richard mentioned Emily has a substantial trust from her late father. Given the current expansion of Bennett Construction, it makes financial sense for that capital to be absorbed into our commercial development fund. We’ll oversee the allocations. Women have emotional reactions to market volatility."
"You want her trust fund," I stated plainly.
"We want marital harmony," Harold countered with an arrogant chuckle. "And in this family, harmony is achieved when the head of the house controls the purse strings. Don't worry, we'll keep you on a reasonable monthly stipend once the estates merge."
I glanced down at my wrist. The sapphire face of my watch ticked forward. Exactly nineteen minutes had passed since my call to Daniel.
"I'm afraid there won't be any merger, Harold," I said softly.
Harold chuckled, thinking I was simply bargaining. "Now, Margaret, don't be naive. You don't have a say in this anymore. The vows are spoken. The certificates are signed. Your daughter belongs to our family now."
"Vows can be annulled," I whispered. "And monsters can be caged."
Before Harold could snap back, the heavy double doors of the ballroom swung wide open. The sudden draft flicked the candle flames across eighty dining tables. The chamber quartet faltered, hitting a discordant note before stopping entirely.
May you like
The room fell into an uneasy hush. Richard turned toward the entrance, his glass halfway to his lips, scowling at the intrusion. "What the hell is going on? Who authorized the doors to be opened?"
Framed against the bright gallery lights outside were six men in dark business suits, led by Daniel Vance—the most feared corporate litigator on the eastern seaboard. And directly behind them walked Detective Hayes, flanked by four uniformed officers of the metropolitan police department.
