We raced across the city with sirens screaming against the midday traffic.
The black iron gates of my estate stood wide open when Miller’s cruiser slid onto the wet gravel driveway.
A silver sports car was parked crookedly across the front lawn, the driver’s side door left ajar.
I leaped out before the police cruiser had come to a complete halt, sprinting up the front stone steps.
The heavy front door was unlocked, the brass latch scratched as if someone had forced a key into it in a panic.
Inside, the house was dead silent.
Drawers in the foyer console were pulled open, paperwork scattered across the marble floor.
Miller followed close behind me, his service pistol drawn and held low against his thigh.
“Clear the ground floor,” Miller whispered into his radio, signaling for backup units to surround the perimeter.
A loud crash came from the upstairs landing.
The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood echoed down the high stairwell.
It was coming from my private home office.
I took the stairs three at a time, Miller right on my heels.
The double doors to my study had been kicked open.
Standing inside, surrounded by torn folders and open safe compartments, was Evelyn Reed.
She wore black leather gloves, her hair disheveled, frantically stuffing physical stock certificates and corporate bonds into a heavy leather duffel bag.
Beside her, holding an iron crowbar, was Vanessa.
Seeing the two of them standing side by side in my private sanctuary made my vision blur with rage.
“Stop right there!” Miller commanded, aiming his weapon directly at the two women.
Vanessa dropped the crowbar with a loud clatter, instantly throwing her hands into the air with a terrified shriek.
“Adrian! She forced me to come here!” Vanessa cried, the fake tears spilling over her cheeks immediately. “Evelyn threatened me! She told me if I didn't help her get the corporate bonds, she’d tell the police I acted alone at the restaurant!”
Evelyn didn't cry.
She didn't flinch.
She dropped the leather bag onto my desk, turned around slowly, and looked at me with cold, venomous disgust.
“Shut up, Vanessa,” Evelyn snapped, rolling her eyes. “You pathetic idiot. You couldn't even manage to feed a child a piece of shellfish without getting filmed on four different cameras.”
Evelyn looked at me, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You were never supposed to find out, Adrian,” Evelyn said smoothly. “You were supposed to be the tragic, broken widower who lost his daughter to a tragic accident, leaving the company in the hands of the only person who actually kept it profitable.”
“You introduced her to me,” I whispered, my voice trembling with disgust.
“Of course I did,” Evelyn sneered. “Vanessa was broke, vain, and desperate for money. She was the perfect pawn. Julian wanted the family trust, I wanted the corporate equity, and Vanessa just wanted to be a pampered socialite.”
“You tried to murder my six-year-old child,” I said, stepping forward.
Evelyn laughed, a dry, bitter sound.
“Children are replaceable, Adrian. Fortunes are not.”
Before she could take another breath, Miller stepped between us, slamming Evelyn against the mahogany desk and pulling her arms roughly behind her back.
“Evelyn Reed,” Miller stated with biting satisfaction. “You’re done talking.”
