Chapter 8
Emma quickly pressed herself flat against the patterned wallpaper, retreating into the deep shadows of an ornamental marble statue. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She held her breath, clutching the cleaning caddy so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Down the hall, Isabella was speaking in a furious, hushed whisper to the two armed men.
"Search every inch of this wing," Isabella commanded, her icy voice carrying down the quiet corridor. "William is a fool, but he is dangerous. If he finds that flash drive, we all go to prison for the rest of our lives. Tear the library apart if you have to."
"What about the kid, Mrs. Sterling?" one of the mercenaries asked, resting his hand on his holstered weapon.
"Ethan is weak," Isabella sneered, her fair, rosy face twisting into a mask of pure evil. "William will lock him somewhere safe while he tries to play the hero. Find William. Kill him. Make it look like a struggle with an intruder. Then bring the boy to me. I want to throw him off the balcony myself."
Emma felt a cold sweat break out on the back of her neck. Isabella wasn't just trying to cover her tracks; she was initiating a full hostile takeover of the Sterling empire tonight.
"Yes, ma'am," the mercenaries nodded. They opened the heavy library doors and stepped inside, clicking on heavy tactical flashlights that cut through the darkness of the massive room.
Isabella lingered in the hallway for a moment, adjusting her satin gown, before turning on her expensive heels and walking back toward the grand staircase.
Emma waited until the rhythmic clicking of Isabella's heels faded completely. She peeked around the statue. The library doors were slightly ajar. The two men were inside, tearing books from the shelves and overturning expensive leather chairs.
She had to get to the third reading desk by the window.
Emma took a slow, silent breath. She left the cleaning caddy behind the statue. Moving with the practiced, silent grace of someone who had spent years tiptoeing around sleeping billionaires, Emma slipped through the gap in the library doors.
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The library was massive, spanning two floors with a spiraling iron staircase in the center. The mercenaries were currently on the second-floor balcony, shining their lights into the dark corners.
Emma dropped to her hands and knees. The plush, thick carpet muffled her movements entirely. She crawled desperately toward the large bay windows at the far end of the room, keeping beneath the eyeline of the men above.
