Chapter 3 - The Web Tightens
Eleanor didn't hesitate. She shoved the briefcase into Chloe's hands and pointed toward the small servant's staircase tucked behind a heavy velvet tapestry at the back of the room.
"Go down there," Eleanor ordered in a harsh whisper. "It leads to the old wine cellar under the east wing. Hide behind the oak barrels and don't come out until I come get you. Do you hear me?"
"What about you?" Chloe whimpered, clutching the briefcase tightly against her chest.
"I have a dinner to cook," Eleanor replied, her voice dropping into an icy register. "Now move!"
Chloe slipped behind the velvet curtain just as Victoria stepped through the main door of the suite, a crystal glass of red wine held gracefully between her manicured fingers.
Victoria stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the empty chair and the severed zip-ties lying on the floor. Her gaze whipped upward, her brown eyes locking onto Eleanor, who was standing quietly in the center of the room with the scissors resting casually in her hand.
For three terrifying seconds, the only sound in the room was the hum of the central air conditioner.
Victoria's face transformed from cold disdain into pure, venomous rage. She threw her wine glass against the wall, shattering the crystal and staining the crimson beige wallpaper.
"You stupid, worthless old bitch!" Victoria roared, stepping aggressively into the room. "What did you do with her?!"
Eleanor kept her head lowered, assuming her bowed, pathetic posture once again. "She... she was crying so hard, ma'am. She said she was faint. I just gave her some water—"
Victoria crossed the floor in two sharp strides, grabbing Eleanor by the collar of her gray uniform jacket and shoving her violently against the doorframe. The impact rattled Eleanor's teeth, but she forced herself not to fight back. Not yet.
"Where is she?!" Victoria screamed into her face, her breath smelling strongly of expensive wine. "Where is the briefcase?!"
"I don't know what briefcase you mean, ma'am!" Eleanor whined, letting tears pool in her eyes. "I just saw the poor girl tied up! I thought it was a mistake—"
"There are no mistakes in this house!" Victoria snorted. She pulled a gold smartphone from her pocket and hit a speed-dial button, putting it on speaker.
A man's deep, gravelly voice answered instantly. "Is it done?"
Eleanor that voice recognized immediately. It belongs to Marcus Vance—her own head of corporate security, a man she had paid three million dollars a year to protect her family for over a decade.
"We have a breach," Victoria snapped into the phone. "The old housekeeper Julian hired found the girl and released her. The briefcase with the Cayman transfer forms is missing."
Marcus let out a dark, dangerous curse over the speaker. "Is Julian back yet?"
"No, his flight from Chicago lands tomorrow morning at ten," Victoria said, pacing the room frantically. "Where is Eleanor Sterling's jet?"
"Grounding team in London confirmed her pilot received the falsified engine fault report," Marcus replied coldly. "She's stuck at Heathrow for at least another thirty-six hours. She has no idea what's happening."
Eleanor felt a cold smile tugging at the corners of her heart beneath her makeup. Marcus thought she was sitting in a luxury lounge six thousand miles away. He had no idea she was standing right here, listening to every single word of his reason.
"Find the girl and the briefcase," Victoria ordered Marcus. "Lock down the estate grounds. Tell the security guards at the main gate that there is no one leaves—not even the staff. If that old maid tries to walk out, break her legs and drop her in the cellar until we finish the transfer."
"Consider it done," Marcus said, and the line went dead.
Victoria dropped her phone back into her pocket and turned back to Eleanor, her eyes cold and calculating.
"You just ruined your own life, Mrs. Gable," Victoria said softly, pulling a heavy silver revolver from her designer handbag and leveling it straight at Eleanor's chest. "You're going to walk downstairs, you're going to sit in the butler's pantry, and you're going to stay there until my men search every inch of this house. If you make a sound, I'll put a bullet through your spine."
Eleanor looked at the silver barrel of the gun. She forced her body to tremble, making her hands shake visibly as she raised them into the air.
"Please, ma'am... don't shoot me," Eleanor pleaded, her voice cracking with manufactured terror. "I'll do whatever you want!"
"Move," Victoria commanded, gesturing with the weapon toward the hallway.
Eleanor turned slowly and began walking down the corridor, her heart executing a calm, cold countdown in her mind. Victoria was holding a gun, but she had committed the ultimate tactical error: she believed her enemy was weak.
As they reached the top of the grand marble staircase, Eleanor deliberately stumbled, catching her foot on the edge of the plush Persian runner.
"Watch it, you clumsy idiot!" Victoria barked, reaching out with her free hand to grab Eleanor's shoulder.
That was the moment Eleanor had been waiting for.
She didn't fall. Instead, she spun around with explosive speed, her left hand striking Victoria's right wrist with a brutal martial-arts palm thrust. The gun went flying out of Victoria's grip, bouncing down the marble steps with a terrifying metallic clatter.
Before Victoria could even register the shock, Eleanor grabbed her by her dusty-rose designer collar, pulling the younger woman down until their faces were inches apart.
The pathetic, stooped old maid was gone. Standing in her place was Eleanor Sterling—the iron matriarch of a global empire.
"Listen to me very carefully, you pathetic little leech," Eleanor whispered, her voice dropping into a register of pure, lethal authority that made Victoria's eyes dilate with sudden terror. "You hit me twice today. You abused my staff. And you threatened my son."
May you like
Eleanor slammed Victoria back against the heavy mahogany wall with incredible force.
"You have no idea who you're messing with," Eleanor growled.
