Chapter 2 - THE MORNING AFTER
The aroma of freshly ground Kenyan coffee and expensive butter tarts wafted through the high-ceilinged spaces of the multi-million-dollar estate.
Ethan walked down the grand marble staircase at exactly seven thirty in the morning, his silk shirt perfectly pressed, a smug smile plastered across his face.
He expected to see his quiet, submissive wife standing over a hot stove, eyes lowered, whispering an apology for daring to buy the wrong brand of coffee the night before.
Instead, the dining room was filled with twelve men in sharp, tailored dark suits, each holding a leather briefcase and an active encrypted tablet.
Beatrice stood by the arched entrance, her porcelain coffee cup trembling in her hand, her face a pale mask of complete, animalistic confusion.
"Ethan, what... what is the meaning of this corporate gathering in our private dining room?" she stammered, her aristocratic voice losing its edge.
"It’s good that you’ve finally come to your senses, Maya," Ethan blustered, trying to regain his dominant posture despite the sudden panic tightening in his chest.
"But you have no authorization to host your accounting clients inside my family’s property without my written permission."
I sat at the head of the long mahogany table, wearing an immaculate ivory silk pantsuit, my left cheek heavily bruised but my eyes dead and calm.
"This isn't my client list, Ethan," I said, my voice carrying a freezing, absolute authority that made him completely freeze in his tracks.
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"This is the executive board of Sterling Global Industries, and you are currently standing on a property that belongs entirely to my father's trust."
"And the little digital recorder under the kitchen sink just uploaded your entire evening performance to the federal trade compliance server."
