Chapter 3 - The Broken Alliance
The corporate headquarters of Mercer Holdings occupied the top three floors of a glass monolith in downtown Miami. Inside the executive boardroom, the atmosphere was thick with panic and the scent of stale espresso.
Richard Mercer stood at the head of the mahogany table, his tie loosened, his face flushed a dangerous shade of crimson. Across from him sat Damian Torres, looking pristine despite the tension, his gold Rolex gleaming under the fluorescent lights. In the corner, Cassidy Mercer sat on a leather sofa, her eyes red from crying, clutching a tissue.
"What do you mean, the security feeds lost her?" Richard slammed his palm against the table. "She’s a girl in a twenty-thousand-dollar silk dress wandering around downtown Miami in a hurricane! How hard is it to find her?"
"She didn't wander, Richard," Damian said smoothly, though the muscle ticking in his jaw betrayed his fury. "My men found her engagement ring on the cathedral steps. Along with tire tracks belonging to a custom Rolls-Royce Phantom. There are only four of those registered in the county. One of them belongs to Lucian Vale."
The name hit the room like a concussive blast.
Richard Mercer slowly sank into his leather chair, his breath escaping him in a ragged gasp. "Vale? Why would she... she doesn't even know him! Why would Lucian Vale take my daughter?"
"Because Vale has been trying to kill my Brickell project for two years," Damian snarled, standing up and pacing the length of the glass wall. "The moment Vivien ran out of that church, she became the perfect weapon for him. If she doesn't sign the spouse-co-owner clause by Friday, the bank pulls the primary construction loan. The whole project collapses."
Cassidy spoke up from the corner, her voice trembling. "Damian... maybe we can just tell the press she’s sick? Delayed? We can find her. Vivien isn't built for the streets. She’ll come home when she runs out of money."
Damian turned a cold, vicious glare toward her. "Shut up, Cassidy. If you hadn't insisted on using the coatroom before the vows, we wouldn't be in this position. Your sister isn't running out of money because she’s sitting in a fortress in Biscayne Bay surrounded by men with sub-automatic rifles."
"Enough!" Richard shouted, rubbing his temples. "We need to fix this. Damian, call your father. Tell him we need to negotiate with Vale."
"You don't negotiate with Lucian Vale," Damian said, his voice dropping into a dark, frustrated hiss. "He doesn't want money. He wants my family dead in a ditch. He blames us for his brother’s accident."
"Then what do we do?"
Damian walked over to Richard, leaning over the table until his shadow completely covered the older man. "We force her out. Vivien is soft. She cares about people. She cares about your reputation, she cares about her mother, she cares about her little brother at boarding school in Europe. We start squeezing her assets. We freeze her bank accounts. We leak a story to the press that she had a psychological breakdown and ran away with a known criminal. Let’s see how long her dignity lasts when her name is dragged through the mud."
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Richard hesitated, a fleeting ghost of fatherly instinct flaring in his chest before he thought of the forty-million-dollar valuation sheet on his monitor. "And if Vale retaliates?"
Damian smiled coldly. "My father is already moving our union boys to the North Harbor docks. If Vale wants a war over a runaway bride, we’ll give him one that burns this city down."
