Chapter 4 - The Art of the Double Cross
Evelyn sank into one of the velvet dining chairs, burying her face in her hands. The horror of the reality crushed her. Her brother wasn’t just relapsing; he was a pawn in an industrial war between billionaires and corrupt bureaucrats.
“Where is he, Vincent?” she pleaded, looking up with reddened eyes. “Where is Daniel?”
Vincent set his glass down on the table with a soft clink. He pulled a chair opposite hers and sat down, his presence overwhelming the space between them.
“My men located him three hours ago,” Vincent revealed. “Mercer has him stashed in a dilapidated safehouse in Red Hook under armed guard. They aren’t planning to arrest him, Evelyn. Once they get whatever data they want from my study, Daniel becomes a loose end. Mercer will stage an accidental overdose within twenty-four hours.”
A gasp of pure agony escaped her lips. “We have to call the police! We have to—”
“The police won’t touch Mercer without concrete proof, and Mercer controls the local precinct captains in that sector,” Vincent interrupted sharply. “The law will not save your brother tonight. Only I can do that.”
Evelyn grabbed his forearm, ignoring the sudden shock of electricity that surged between their skin. “What do you want from me? Tell me what to do. I’ll do anything, Vincent. Anything.”
Vincent’s dark eyes locked onto hers, burning with an intensity that made her heart race wildly. He reached out and touched her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. The unexpected tenderness took the air from her lungs.
“I need you to betray me, Evelyn,” Vincent whispered.
She blinked, confused. “What?”
“Mercer is waiting for your answer. He gave you forty-eight hours. Tomorrow morning, you are going to call him on an encrypted burner line we’ve prepared. You are going to sound terrified, weeping, broken. You will tell him that I discovered the transmitter in his coat, that I threatened your life, and that you stole the flash drive from my hidden safe out of pure self-preservation.”
May you like
“You’re going to give him your real records?”
A dark, dangerous smirk touched Vincent’s lips. “I’m going to give him a Trojan horse filled with twenty years of fabricated transactions that will trace directly back to Mercer’s personal Cayman accounts. When he submits that drive to the Grand Jury, he will sign his own life sentence. But to pull this off, you have to walk straight into his crosshairs. You have to be the bait.”
