Chapter 2: The Crumbling Facade
Victor’s face was a mottled mix of purple rage and mounting panic. The club was dead silent. He tried to puff out his chest, but his hands were shaking. "You... you think a nightclub owner can threaten me? I have lawyers who eat people like you for breakfast!"
Vanessa, his mistress, had stopped laughing. She was looking at the crowd—at the way the staff stopped moving, at the way the bouncers flanked Evelyn like royal guards. She pulled on Victor’s arm, her face pale. "Victor, stop. Look at the people around us. They’re... they’re filming us."
Evelyn leaned in close. Her voice was a whisper, but it sounded like a death sentence. "You attacked the wrong woman, Victor. You just attacked the only person holding your fund's tax records away from the Senate Committee. Tomorrow morning, when the market opens, they’re going to see exactly where your ‘investments’ have been hiding."
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The color drained from Victor’s face so fast he looked like he might faint. "The... the ledger? You have it?"
"I've had it for three years," Evelyn said, turning her back on him. "I was just waiting for you to get comfortable enough to make a mistake. Congratulations. You just made the most expensive one of your life."
