Chapter 3 - Blood and Diamonds
"Merry Christmas, Fiona," Logan’s voice was as smooth and cold as river ice.
Fiona pulled her shawl tight around her bare shoulders, instinctively trying to cover the diamond collar resting against her collarbones. "Logan. You shouldn't have driven through the storm. The roads are freezing over."
"A little black ice never stopped me from looking after my assets," Logan replied, his dark eyes drifting deliberately down to the diamonds blazing around her throat. A sickening half-smile played on his lips. "Exquisite piece. Custom cut. Platinum setting. Tell me, Fiona, does that come out of your Hensley executive retainer, or was it purchased using the escrow reserves from the New Haven branch?"
Matthias stepped forward, positioning his broad frame between Logan and Fiona. The posture was supposed to look chivalrous, but I saw the tremor in his fingers.
"Logan," Matthias said, forcing a tight, hollow corporate grin. "I didn't realize Serena had extended an invitation. Hensley business should stay in the boardroom, especially tonight."
"Tonight is the only night that matters, Dre," Logan replied, pulling a heavy brass pocket watch from his vest. "Because at midnight, the acquisition window closes. And funny thing—two hours ago, the New York Banking Commission received an anonymous red-flag filing regarding three shell corporations operating out of Delaware."
Matthias's jaw hardened until the bone clicked. "That's impossible."
"Is it?" Logan looked past him, locking eyes with me. "Your wife has an extraordinary eye for detail, Matthias. When she asked me to look into a particular series of hotel room charges, she didn't just find out you were sleeping with my wife. She found out you were using Fiona’s digital signature to drain the Hensley pension guarantee fund."
I stood motionless, my pulse hammering in my throat. I hadn't known the full extent of the financial rot. When I gave Logan the records, I had only sought leverage for my divorce, an ironclad defense to protect my daughter's custody.
But looking at Matthias's sallow face, the pieces snapped into place.
The offshore accounts. The secret trips. The warning note left in my attorney’s mail: *Collateral losses within acceptable parameters.*
This wasn't just corporate embezzlement. This was arson.
"Serena," Matthias turned toward me, his voice trembling with a terrifying blend of rage and desperation. He grabbed my forearm, his grip bruising through the emerald velvet. "You think you're clever? You think this is some daytime television revenge fantasy? You just signed all our death warrants."
"Let go of my arm, Matthias," I said, my voice dead calm.
May you like
"You don't understand who I borrowed that money from," he breathed, leaning in so close I could smell the sour panic beneath his expensive cologne. "The people behind this acquisition don't file lawsuits. They clean up loose ends."
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