Chapter 4 - The Viper's Last Strike
Back at the estate, Emily was trying to process her new reality.
She sat in the morning room, wearing a soft cream cashmere sweater Mrs. Gable had bought for her, staring at the legal documents spread across the glass table. Sixty-four million dollars in liquid trust funds. A forty-percent voting share in Sterling Maritime. A life of poverty, working double shifts at diners and cleaning mansions to pay off her mother's medical bills, had vanished overnight.
Yet, as she looked out at the vast green lawns, she felt more isolated than ever.
"It feels like a dream I'm going to wake up from," Emily said as Daniel walked onto the terrace, holding two cups of black coffee.
"It's not a dream, Emily," Daniel said, setting a mug down in front of her and sitting opposite. "It's justice. Your mother was cast out by bitter men who cared more about pride than family. You are simply taking back what was stolen from her."
"I don't know how to be a Sterling, Daniel," Emily confessed, her fingers tracing the warm porcelain of her cup. "I don't know how to run a shipping company. I don't know how to deal with people like Richard Vance or Vanessa."
"You don't have to run it alone," Daniel said, reaching out to cover her small hand with his large, warm palm. "I'll be beside you every step of the way. You have the one thing those people lack: integrity."
Before Emily could reply, her phone buzzed on the table. It was a text message from an unknown number.
Attached was a photo.
Emily gasped, dropping her coffee cup. The dark liquid spilled across the white table, but she didn't even notice.
The photo showed an elderly woman tied to a chair in a dimly lit, damp basement. It was Aunt Sarah—the woman who had taken Emily in after her mother died, the only real family she had ever known.
Below the photo was a short text message:
IF YOU WANT HER ALIVE, LEAVE THE ESTATE ALONE. COME TO THE OLD DOCK WAREHOUSE ON 4TH STREET AT MIDNIGHT. COME ALONE, OR THE OLD WOMAN DIES.
Emily's blood ran cold. The phone slipped from her fingers onto the stone floor.
Daniel picked up the phone, his eyes scanning the image and the message. A terrifying, lethal darkness washed over his features—a darkness that made the cold expression he had worn during Vanessa's framing look gentle by comparison.
"Vance," Daniel whispered, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the table. "They think they can play by gutter rules."
"Daniel, my aunt..." Emily wept, grabbing his arms frantically. "She's sick! She needs her medication! We have to call the police!"
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"If we call the police, Richard's men at the harbor precinct will leak it," Daniel said, his mind moving with tactical precision. "We don't call the police, Emily. We call my personal security team."
He stood up, pulling Emily up with him, his dark eyes burning into hers. "You aren't going to that warehouse alone. We are going together. And tonight, we end the Vance family once and for all."
