Chapter 2 - The Cold Cut-Off
The night air smelled of ozone and burning rubber, but as I stood on the hill overlooking the city lights, all I felt was ice in my veins.
"Asset freeze initiated, Chairwoman," Daniel Carter’s voice cracked through the encrypted line. "Every corporate credit line, every subsidy, every joint holding account tied to Ethan Bennett or Bennett Logistics has been locked down. Effective ten minutes ago, his business is solvent in name only."
"Good," I whispered, watching the champagne flute silhouette in the window across the valley. "What about his personal cards?"
"Authorized under the Whitmore family guarantee," Daniel replied, a ghost of a smile in his tone. "Declined across the board by morning. By the way, Claire... I am glad you're alive."
"So am I, Daniel. So am I."
I disconnected and turned around. Ruth was leaning against a black matte SUV parked under the shadow of the pine trees, her arms crossed, a lit cigarette dangling from her mouth. Ruth wasn't a stranger by accident—she was a former operative I had hired through a private security firm three months ago when I first suspected Ethan’s ledger discrepancies. Tonight, her fast reaction had saved my life.
"You look remarkably unbroken for a dead woman," Ruth said, flicking the ember into the dirt. "Where to now?"
"The safehouse in Upper East," I said, stepping into the passenger seat. "It’s time to let Ethan spend the money he thinks he just inherited."
Two miles away, inside my former home, the music was still blaring.
Ethan picked up his phone to order a midnight delivery of beluga caviar and a bottle of $3,000 vintage Bordeaux from the city's premier concierge service. He swiped his Black Card with a smirk, holding Megan’s waist with his free hand.
"Sir, I'm sorry," the concierge manager on the line said after a long pause. "The charge was declined."
Ethan’s smirk faltered. "That's impossible. Try it again. It’s an unlimited corporate charge account."
"I tried three times, Mr. Bennett. It says Account Flagged: Financial Freeze. I'm afraid we cannot process the order."
Ethan ended the call, his face flushing red. "Glitch in the banking system," he muttered to Megan. "Claire’s accounts probably got auto-flagged because of the police notification about the crash. I’ll call the bank manager in the morning. Don't worry, baby. Tomorrow, we sign the insurance claim forms."
Megan wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his jawline. "Just make sure it gets fixed fast, darling. I already booked our penthouse in St. Barts for next week."
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They slept like babies that night, wrapped in silk sheets paid for by my family’s hard work.
They had no idea that while they slept, the financial machinery of the Whitmore Group was quietly unscrewing every lightbulb in their universe.
