Chapter 10
The air inside the vast, empty ballroom turned to ice.
Eleanor’s hand fell from Maya’s shoe. Her hazel eyes narrowed, locked onto the glowing display of Harrison’s tablet. "What did you say, Harrison?"
"The authorization codes," Harrison said, stepping closer so Eleanor could see the encrypted logs. "They didn't originate from Julian’s office in Midtown. They were transmitted from the seventy-second floor of the Blackwood Tower in Manhattan. The signature algorithm belongs to an executive board member."
Arthur’s knuckles whitened against Maya’s party dress. "Who signed the proxy, Harrison? Give me the name."
"It was an internal protocol, Mr. Chairman," Harrison replied, his voice taut with suppressed tension. "The signature was encrypted using the Master Sovereign key. The only people who hold that key are you, Director Eleanor... and your brother, Jonathan."
Eleanor felt the breath hitch in her throat. "Jonathan? My brother was in London closing the maritime treaty. He swore he would protect Maya if anything happened to me."
"Jonathan returned to New York three days ago, Eleanor," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a register of terrifying, ancient grief. "He told me he was staying at the upstate lodge to prepare for the annual shareholder summit."
"He wasn't at the lodge, sir," Harrison added, his thumb scrolling through the surveillance manifests. "Our field agents just confirmed that Jonathan Blackwood met with Julian Vance at a private aviation hangar in Teterboro on Tuesday evening. Julian didn't propose to Genevieve to save his own company. He was promised a forty-percent stake in Blackwood Logistics if Eleanor was permanently removed from the line of succession."
Maya stirred in Arthur’s arms, rubbing her eyes with the back of her small hand. "Mommy? Is Uncle Jonathan coming to my party?"
Eleanor didn't answer immediately. She looked at her daughter’s innocent, bruised face, then looked up at her father.
The battle in the ballroom was over. Julian Vance was heading to a federal penitentiary; Genevieve Sterling was in handcuffs; the Sterling family empire was being ground into dust by the market open.
Yet the real war—the war for the Blackwood bloodline, the war that had driven Eleanor into hiding five years ago—had only just revealed its true architect.
"Father," Eleanor said, her voice completely calm, completely steady, vibrating with lethal resolve.
"Yes, my daughter?" Arthur asked.
"Call the flight crew at JFK," Eleanor commanded, her hand reaching into her blazer to retrieve her secure satellite terminal. "Have the private Sikorsky fueled and idling on the rooftop helipad within ten minutes."
Arthur looked at her, a grim, terrifying pride settling into his weathered features. "Where are we going, Eleanor?"
"We're going to the Blackwood Tower," Eleanor said, her heels clicking against the marble as she stepped toward the grand exit. "My brother thinks he can steal my daughter's birthright from the shadows. It's time I showed him what happens when a Blackwood heiress takes her seat at the head of the table."
Suddenly, the encrypted satellite phone in Eleanor’s hand vibrated with a sharp, double pulse.
A notification flashed across the dark screen from an unlisted, internal Blackwood frequency:
Welcome back to the family, little sister. I see you broke the red thread. Let's see if you can survive the seventy-second floor.
May you like
Eleanor looked down at the glowing text, her lips curving into a cold, merciless smile.
She stepped through the double doors into the cool night air, leaving the ruined ballroom behind, ready to tear the empire down to its foundations to protect her child.
