Chapter 6 - The Lion's Den
Lucian didn't look surprised. He casually wiped his mouth with a linen napkin, setting it down beside his coffee cup.
“Did they bring police?” Lucian asked.
“No, sir,” Marcus replied. “They know if they bring the cops, the press follows. They want this kept off the news.”
Lucian turned his dark eyes toward Vivien. “It’s your call. I can have my men turn them away at the gate, or we can let them come up and state their business.”
Vivien felt a surge of cold adrenaline hit her veins. Six months ago, the thought of standing up to her father and Damian together would have made her nauseous. But sitting in this house, backed by the most dangerous man in Miami, she felt entirely untouchable.
“Let them in,” Vivien said, her voice like steel. “I want to look Damian in the eyes when he realizes he has nothing left.”
Five minutes later, the grand living room of the estate became a pressure cooker.
The double doors opened, and Richard Mercer strode into the room, his silver hair slicked back, his face red with suppressed rage. Behind him came Damian Torres, looking disheveled, his designer suit wrinkled, dark circles bruised beneath his eyes.
They were flanked by two heavy-set security guards, but the four Reyes soldiers standing silently along the perimeter made it abundantly clear who controlled the room.
“Vivien!” Richard roared, stepping toward her. “Have you lost your mind? Staying in the house of a criminal? Do you have any idea what you’ve done to our stock price?”
Lucian stood up slowly from his armchair. He didn't raise his voice, but the sudden shift in his posture made both Richard and Damian stop in their tracks.
“You are in my home, Mercer,” Lucian said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Lower your tone before I have my men remove your tongue.”
Richard swallowed hard, taking a half-step back, though his anger still radiated off him. He turned back to Vivien. “Get your coat. You are coming home right now. We have issued a press release saying you suffered a temporary panic attack due to wedding stress.”
Vivien let out a low, breathless laugh, standing up beside Lucian. “A panic attack, Dad? Is that what we’re calling finding my fiancé’s hands up my sister’s dress?”
Damian took a step forward, putting on his best charming, remorseful smile—the one he always used when he needed to fix a mistake.
“Viv, babe, listen to me,” Damian said smoothly, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. “What happened yesterday… it was a mistake. I was stressed, Cassidy was crying about her own stuff, and things just got out of hand. It meant nothing to me. You’re the woman I want to build an empire with.”
Vivien stared at him, feeling a sudden wave of profound disgust that she had ever let this man touch her.
“It meant nothing?” Vivien asked softly. “Cassidy is twenty-one, Damian. She’s my sister. And you treated her like an afternoon snack before walking down the aisle with me.”
“Vivien, enough!” Richard snapped. “Family matters are private! The contract is signed! If you don't walk back into that office today and sign the final merger papers, I will cut you off completely! You won't have a dime, a car, or a career in this city!”
Vivien smiled—a small, sharp, terrifying smile that made her father’s eyes narrow.
She reached onto the glass coffee table, picked up the black tablet, and pressed a single green button on the screen.
“I didn't sign the merger papers, Dad,” Vivien said clearly. “In fact, three minutes ago, I forwarded Damian’s shell-company ledgers directly to the Internal Revenue Service and the Federal Maritime Commission.”
Damian’s face drained of every ounce of color. He staggered back a step as if he had been struck by a physical blow.
“What… what did you do?” Damian stammered, his voice suddenly pitch-thin.
“I liquidated your Cayman accounts to cover the losses on the Mercer stock,” Vivien said coldly. “And I released the proof that you were using my father’s shipping lanes to move illegal cash. By noon today, the federal agents will be serving warrants on both of your headquarters.”
Silence slammed into the room like a physical impact.
May you like
Richard stared at his daughter as if he were seeing a stranger—a monster born from his own cold ambition. “You… you destroyed us.”
“No, Dad,” Vivien whispered, stepping closer to them, her dark eyes flashing with absolute authority. “You destroyed us when you told me to lower my voice on the steps of Saint Aurelia’s. Now get out of this house.”
