Chapter 5 - The Best Man's Trap
The rain was coming down in sheets over the Potomac River when I met Colin Vance at a quiet, upscale lounge in Dupont Circle the following evening.
Colin sat at a corner booth, wearing a tailored charcoal coat, sipping a glass of single-malt scotch. He looked relaxed, confident, like a man who had just won a silent war.
"Eleanor," he said smoothly, standing up to offer a gentle smile as I approached. "I'm so glad you called. I was worried about how you were holding up after... everything."
I sat down opposite him, keeping my coat buttoned, my handbag resting on my lap. Inside my bag, my phone was recording every word.
"I'm managing, Colin," I said quietly, playing the part of the grieving, exhausted victim. "It's just... hard. Realizing that the man I loved was a monster."
Colin reached across the table, placing a warm, comforting hand over mine. "Nathan was always weak, Eleanor. He lacked vision. He thought he could play in the deep end of D.C. business using cheap tricks and mistress drama. He was an idiot."
"And you're not an idiot, are you, Colin?" I asked softly, tilting my head.
Colin's smile didn't fade, but his eyes sharpened slightly. "I like to think I appreciate true value when I see it."
"Like the value of the Potomac Waterfront project?" I asked. "Or the value of the thirty-million-dollar trust fund my father left me?"
Colin took a slow sip of his scotch. "Your father built a magnificent empire, Eleanor. It was a shame he died before he could see it properly expanded."
"He didn't die of natural causes, did he, Colin?"
The sentence hung in the air between us like heavy smoke.
The clinking of glasses in the lounge seemed to quiet down. The jazz music softly playing in the background faded into white noise.
Colin set his glass down slowly. The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by a cold, calculating steel that made him look far more dangerous than Nathan had ever been.
"That is a very heavy accusation to throw around over drinks, Eleanor," Colin said softly.
"My father was fifty-eight years old, ran marathons, and had the heart of a thirty-year-old according to his medical records," I said, leaning forward. "Three weeks after he rejected a buyout offer from your family's investment firm, he suddenly suffered a fatal cardiac arrest in his office. And two months later, Nathan showed up in my life with a complete playbook on how to win my heart."
I pulled a single sheet of paper from my bag and slid it across the table.
It was a copy of the toxicology report from my father's private autopsy—a second, covert report Arthur Sterling had commissioned months ago, which found traces of a rare, short-acting potassium compound that induced heart failure without leaving standard chemical signatures.
Colin looked at the paper, then looked up at me. He didn't look panicked. He looked amused.
"Your father was an obstacle to the modernization of this city, Eleanor," Colin whispered, leaning over the small table until he was inches from my face. "He sat on prime waterfront land like a dog guarding a bone he couldn't chew. He refused to sell. He refused to partner. He was old, stubborn, and useless."
"So you killed him," I whispered, my heart thumping against my ribs like a sledgehammer.
"I managed an unfortunate necessity," Colin corrected smoothly. "And then I used Nathan to try and absorb the assets peacefully through marriage. But Nathan was sloppy. He let his appetite for cheap girls like Savannah ruin a multibillion-dollar acquisition."
Colin leaned back, straightening his tie.
"Nathan is going to prison, Eleanor. His mother is broke. Their company is ours. And you... you are going to sell the Potomac Waterfront lease to Vance Capital by the end of this month."
"And if I refuse?" I asked.
May you like
Colin smiled—a terrifying, empty expression.
"Then you might suffer from the same sudden heart condition your father had. Grief is a terrible burden on a young woman's heart, Eleanor. People would completely understand."
