Chapter 5 - A Deal with the Enemy
The rain was torrential, stinging my face as I sprinted across the wet manicured lawn toward the woods that bordered the property. The headlights of a dark sedan flared to life behind me, sweeping across the tree line as Eleanor’s security team gave chase.
I dove into the thick underbrush, my shoes slipping in the mud, my lungs burning. I kept going until the sounds of shouting and tires grinding on gravel faded into the distance.
Ten minutes later, I reached the small stone bridge that spanned the stream separating our estate from the neighboring property. Sitting beneath the bridge, shivering in an oversized raincoat, was Sienna.
"Did you get it?" she asked, her teeth chattering.
I held up the leather ledger, wet but intact under my coat. "It’s all here. The offshore accounts, the forged structural reports, the payments to the state inspectors."
Sienna dropped her head into her hands and let out a long, ragged breath. "He was going to kill me, Clara. After Ethan found out, Julian told me he would make sure I took the blame for the money laundering. He told me he’d say I seduced him to steal corporate funds."
"Why did you stay, Sienna?" I asked softly, sitting down on the damp concrete ledge beside her. "Why didn't you just leave Ethan and run?"
"Because Julian had proof that my brother was involved in the initial shipping kickbacks," she confessed, tears streaming down her face. "He threatened to send my brother to prison for life if I didn't play along. I felt trapped. I thought if I stayed close to Julian, I could find something to destroy him first."
"Where is Ethan?" she added, looking back toward the mansion nervously.
"He held off Eleanor's men so I could get out," I said, opening the ledger to double-check the pages. "We need to get this to the Federal Bureau of Investigation in Manhattan before Eleanor uses her connections to seize the hard drives."
"We can't take the main highways," Sienna warned. "Eleanor has local police officers on the company payroll. They’ll put out a bulletin for your car before sunrise."
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"Then we use Ethan’s truck," a voice called out from the dark foliage above the bridge.
Ethan slid down the muddy bank, his lip bleeding, his shirt torn at the shoulder, but his eyes were bright with a fierce, unwavering resolve.
