Chapter 5 - The Snake in the Garden
For the next twenty-four hours, the world grieved Amelia Hayes while Richard executed his real plan.
From my underground bunker, I watched through hacked security feeds as my husband transformed our Atherton estate into his command center. He didn't sleep in our master bedroom. Within six hours of returning from the police station, he had set up a private war room in my father's old study.
And he wasn't alone.
At 11:00 PM on Sunday night, a sleek black sedan pulled into the private driveway of our home. The passenger who stepped out didn't wear a mourning coat; she wore a tight leather dress, red heels, and carried a thick leather briefcase.
Victoria Sterling.
My head of corporate legal affairs. The woman I had promoted two years ago, the woman who had attended my baby shower three weeks ago, weeping happy tears as she gifted me an antique silver rattle.
I watched the high-definition security camera feed in our living room.
As soon as the double front doors closed behind her, Victoria dropped her briefcase onto the marble floor. She didn't offer Richard condolences. She walked straight into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as Richard slammed her back against the mahogany wall, kissing her with a desperate, wild fury.
"Jesus," Marcus whispered beside me, averting his eyes from the monitor with a grimace. "I'm sorry, Amelia."
"Don't be," I said flatly. My blood didn't boil. I felt a strange, cold sense of validation. Every paranoia, every instinct I had suppressed over the past six months was being confirmed in real-time high definition. "It all makes sense now. Victoria was the one who gave him the administrative bypass keys to the Delaware trust filings."
On the monitor, Richard pulled back from Victoria, breath coming heavy, a triumphant grin plastered across his handsome face.
"Is it done?" Richard asked, pouring two fingers of my father's rare scotch into two crystal tumblers.
"The Coast Guard suspended the active dive search twenty minutes ago due to high swells," Victoria replied, running her red-nailed fingers through his hair. "They told the press that given the height of the fall and the tide patterns, recovery of the body is extremely unlikely. She's fish food, Richard."
Richard raised his glass in a toast. "To gravity."
Victoria clinked her glass against his. "To 51% of Hayes Global Dynamics."
They sat together on the velvet sofa—my sofa, purchased with my father's money—opening Victoria's briefcase. She pulled out a stack of documents bearing the gold foil seal of Hayes Global Dynamics.
"The emergency board meeting is set for 9:00 AM tomorrow," Victoria said, leaning over a spread of financial ledgers. "I've spoken with the major institutional investors—BlackRock, Vanguard, and the European sovereign wealth funds. They are terrified of a stock dive. I assured them that you have full knowledge of Amelia's long-term strategic vision and that you'll step into the interim CEO chair immediately."
"And the board members who might ask questions?" Richard asked, taking a sip of his scotch. "Old man Vance? Director Chen?"
"Chen is old and timid; he'll vote with the majority," Victoria sneered. "And Marcus Vance has vanished. His phone goes straight to voicemail. Rumor is he's distraught over failing to protect Thomas Hayes' daughter. He's a non-factor."
Richard leaned back against the cushions, lacing his fingers behind his head. The grief-stricken widower was entirely gone, replaced by a man bloated with premature victory.
"You know what the best part is, Vic?" Richard said, a soft, cruel chuckle rising from his chest. "She actually looked at me right before I pushed her. She asked me if I was happy. She was so pathetic. She really believed that having a baby would fix us."
Victoria laughed, pressing a kiss to his neck. "She was an engineer, darling. She knew how to build rockets, but she didn't know how men work."
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In the Napa bunker, three hundred miles away, I reached out and tapped the monitor screen, right over Richard's smiling face.
"Enjoy the victory lap, Richard," I murmured to the silent glass. "Tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, the engineer is going to show you how a trap works."
