Meeting Corinne

I waited until I heard the dial tone before I let myself breathe. My hands were shaking again, but this time it wasn't fear. It was adrenaline. It was power.

I had Corinne. I had the company. And I had the law on my side.

I looked at Julian. He was still staring at the legal text, his face pale.

"The bodies," he repeated. "Arthur Jr. And... the others."

"We can't leave them there," I said. "We have to exhume them. We have to give them names."

"If we dig them up," Julian said, "the company collapses. The scandal will destroy everything. The stock, the contracts, the legacy."

"The legacy is built on bones," I said. "Let it collapse."

"Elena," he said. "Think about the kids. Their inheritance. Their future."

"Their future shouldn't be funded by blood money," I said.

He looked away. He was weak. He was still Arthur's son, programmed to protect the empire at all costs.

"We need the money," he whispered. "To pay off the fixer. To pay off Cole. To disappear."

"We don't have to disappear," I said. "Arthur is gone. We won."

"Did we?" he asked. "Corinne has the black ledger. The one Arthur kept on his... partners. If that gets out, the cartel won't just kill us. They'll torture us."

I froze.

The ledger in the quarry. The one I gave to the police.

"That was the financial ledger," Julian said. "The black ledger—the blackmail file—is different. Arthur kept it in a safe deposit box. Only he and Corinne had access."

My blood ran cold.

Corinne wasn't just a mistress. She was the keeper of the keys.

And I had just invited her into the lion's den.

"We need that ledger," I said. "Before she realizes what it's worth."

"How do we get it?"

"We trade," I said. "Her freedom for the book."

"She thinks she's safe," Julian said. "She thinks she's the widow."

"Not for long," I said.

I pulled out my phone. I took a photo of the marriage license I had found in the basement—Arthur and Margaret, dated 1980. Then I took a photo of the death certificate—Margaret Hawthorne, dated 2016.

And then I took a photo of Margaret herself, from the video still on my laptop. Alive. Dated yesterday.

I composed a text to Corinne.

*I know about the prenup. I know about the safe deposit box.*

I attached the photos.

*You're not his wife, Corinne. You're his accomplice. And unless you bring me the black ledger, I'm giving these to the FBI.*

I hit send.

I watched the screen.

*Delivered.*

*Read.*

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

*I'm coming.*

I looked at Julian.

"She's on her way," I said. "Get the security team ready. The loyal ones."

"We don't have loyal ones," Julian said. "They all worked for Arthur."

"Then we do it ourselves," I said.

I walked to the window. The sun was rising over the city, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold.

Below, on the street, a black sedan turned the corner. It didn't slow down. It screeched to a halt in front of the building.

Corinne's car pulled up three minutes later.