Chapter 36 - The Gala of Serpents
Before they could reach the vault in Zurich, Eleanor knew they had to sever The Cardinal's financial tentacles in Manhattan. The Vanguard Group was holding an exclusive, black-tie charity auction at the Metropolitan Club—a gathering of high-society monsters laundering art and blood diamonds under the guise of philanthropy.
Eleanor arrived unannounced.
The moment she walked into the gilded ballroom wearing a midnight-blue velvet gown with an open back that displayed the faint scar from her Geneva escape, the room went dead silent. The string quartet missed a beat. Billionaires, senators, and syndicate ambassadors parted like the Red Sea.
"Look at them," Julian whispered from her side, wearing a bespoke tuxedo that gave him the silhouette of an MI6 assassin. "They don't know whether to toast you or run for the fire exits."
"Let them do both," Eleanor replied coolly.
She was intercepted near the champagne fountain by Sofia Moretti, the raven-haired heiress to the Milanese banking cartel that financed half of Wall Street’s high-risk leveraged buyouts.
"Eleanor Vance," Sofia purred, raising a flute of crystal vintage. "The widow who conquered Manhattan with a flash drive and a handgun. You look remarkably radiant for a woman with a fifty-million-euro bounty on her head."
"And you look remarkably confident for a woman whose offshore holding company in the Caymans is currently being audited by three federal grand juries," Eleanor countered, without missing a beat.
Sofia’s smile froze. Her grip on her glass tightened. "You think you’ve won, don't you? You think by killing Arthur and bankrupting Obsidian, you took the throne. You don't know the first thing about the Vance bloodline."
"Enlighten me, Sofia. Before I instruct my algorithms to short your family’s stock into oblivion at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."
Sofia leaned in, her whisper dripping with venom. "Arthur didn't frame you five years ago because he hated you, Eleanor. He framed you because *he had to pay a debt*. The Vance family doesn't own their fortune. They borrowed it from an organization that trades in dynasties. And the terms of the loan were clear: when the primary heir dies, the estate must be returned with interest—or the child pays with his life."
"Who holds the note?" Eleanor’s voice was dangerously quiet.
May you like
"The Cardinal," Sofia whispered. "And Jonathan is already in Zurich waiting for your son."
***
