Chapter 7
Back at the Hayes estate, the brightly lit ballroom had been hastily cleared of guests. The vibrant, festive colors of the party now felt like a mocking, hollow shell. The caterers had quietly swept away the shattered crystal and the ruined shrimp, leaving the polished marble floor pristine but forever tainted by the memory of Roland’s violent outburst.
Michael stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over his manicured lawns. His tailored charcoal suit had been discarded, replaced by a fresh, crisp white dress shirt and dark trousers, but no change of clothes could wash away the profound humiliation he had suffered. His fair, handsome face was pale, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
Jessica sat on a velvet sofa across the room, pressing a silk handkerchief to her forehead. She had changed out of her ruined formal outfit, but her hands were still shaking violently.
"We are ruined, Michael," Jessica whimpered, her American accent shrill with panic. "Do you understand what you've done? Roland Carter doesn't just make threats. He executes them. He will freeze us out of the commission by tomorrow morning."
"Shut up, Mother," Michael snapped, turning away from the window. "Roland is an old man. He relies on fear and reputation. The days of him tossing people around ballrooms are over. We just need to strike first."
"Strike first with what?" Jessica cried, throwing her hands up. "We don't have the manpower to go to war with the Carter syndicate! And Emily took the girls. We have no leverage!"
"We don't need the girls," Michael said, pacing the length of the room, his mind racing through desperate, dangerous calculations. "Roland thinks he can cut off my money. But he doesn't know about the secondary accounts."
"The loans from the Russians?" Jessica asked, her eyes widening in sheer terror. "Michael, if Roland finds out you borrowed from outside the family network, he will have you killed for treason!"
"He isn't going to find out, because we are going to use the Russians to end him," Michael declared, stopping in front of his mother, his eyes wild with a reckless, suicidal ambition. "I’m going to call Viktor. I’m going to offer him the shipping routes on the east side in exchange for taking Roland out."
"You are out of your mind," Jessica whispered, staring at her son as if he were a stranger. "You are inviting wolves into our home. If you miss, Roland will butcher us."
"If we do nothing, we starve!" Michael yelled, slamming his hand against a side table. "I am not going to let that old man humiliate me in my own house and walk away! I am a Hayes! I will not be treated like a dog!"
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Michael pulled his heavy gold smartphone from his pocket. His hands were trembling, betraying the false bravado in his voice. He scrolled through his encrypted contacts, finding the number for the Russian faction's primary fixer.
"It's over for him, Mom," Michael promised, though he sounded like he was trying to convince himself. He pressed the call button and raised the phone to his ear, listening to the dial tone, unaware that the trap had already been set, and he was walking right into it.
