Chapter 6 - The Trap Snaps
By noon the following day, the plan was fully in motion. Derek had scheduled an emergency press conference at his firm’s corporate headquarters in the Loop to publicly announce my ""disappearance"" and offer a half-million-dollar reward for my safe return. It was his ultimate masterstroke—publicly framing me as a helpless, mentally ill victim while using public sympathy to force the police to hunt me down for him.
He didn't know we were already inside his building.
Dressed in a tailored black suit provided by Bianca, my hair slicked back into an elegant bun and dark sunglasses masking my face, I walked through the service entrance of Hale Capital alongside Matteo and four of his elite security personnel disguised as federal marshals.
Leo had successfully overwritten the building’s digital surveillance loop fifteen minutes prior. Every elevator camera was frozen on an empty corridor.
""Are you ready for this?"" Matteo murmured as the freight elevator ascended toward the executive penthouse level. He adjusted the lapel of my jacket, his thumb brushing lightly across my collarbone in a fleeting gesture of reassurance.
""I spent two years waiting for someone to save me,"" I replied, meeting his gaze squarely. ""I'm ready to save myself.""
The elevator chimed on the top floor.
The press conference had just concluded in the main boardroom. Reporters from the Chicago Tribune and local news channels were packing up their tripods while Derek stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, pretending to wipe away tears while talking to a city councilwoman.
The double mahogany doors burst open.
Matteo walked in first, his presence commanding immediate, suffocating silence. The entire room went dead quiet. Several older reporters visibly flinched upon recognizing the head of the Conti enterprise.
""What is the meaning of this?"" Derek barked, spinning around, his face reddening with instant rage. ""Conti? Security, remove these trespassers—""
Then I stepped out from behind Matteo.
The color drained from Derek’s face in real-time. His polished facade shattered, his mouth hanging slightly open as his manicured veneer dissolved into pure, raw terror.
""Hello, Derek,"" I said, projecting my voice across the dead-silent boardroom.
Camera shutters began snapping violently. A reporter from Fox 32 immediately whipped out his microphone, sensing the scoop of a lifetime.
May you like
""Clara?"" Derek stammered, frantically trying to regain his composure for the cameras. ""Honey! Oh god, you're safe! Look at you, you're confused... ladies and gentlemen, please, my fiancée has been undergoing a severe nervous breakdown—""
""I have never been saner in my life,"" I interrupted, walking steadily toward the podium he had just vacated. I pulled a thumb drive from my pocket and slammed it onto the glass table. ""On this drive are two years of photographic evidence documenting domestic abuse, physical imprisonment, and medical reports. Along with complete financial records from Alabaster Holdings detailing Derek Hale’s money laundering operations with Russian organized crime.""
