Chapter 5 - THE VAULT AND THE VIPER
Grant didn’t reach for his weapon. He knew better than to move against someone already aiming.
He slowly moved his body to the left, subtly placing himself between Monica and Jolene.
"Monica," Grant said, keeping his voice steady, conversational. "How did you find this place?"
"You're a creature of habit, darling," Monica said, stepping fully into the room. She kept the gun leveled at Grant’s chest. "You pay the property taxes on this shell corporation from a holding account. An account I have access to as your future wife."
Grant studied her face. The elegant, polished woman he was supposed to marry in three weeks was gone. Replaced by a cold, calculating stranger.
"You're working for Desmond," Grant stated. It wasn't a question.
Monica laughed softly, a dry, humorless sound. "Oh, Grant. You really are blind when it comes to the people closest to you. I don't work for Desmond. Desmond works for me."
Jolene shifted on the sofa behind Grant. "She's a Langford," Jolene whispered. "Her family owns the rival shipping lines."
Monica nodded in acknowledgment. "Smart girl. Your father figured it out, too. He saw the wire transfers in the ledger. He realized Desmond hadn't just murdered his brother to take over the Holloway Organization. Desmond sold it out. He took millions from my family to bleed your company dry from the inside. The wedding was just the final step. A legal merger that would hand everything over to the Langfords."
Grant felt the betrayal cut deeper than he thought possible. Everything was a lie. The business, his father's death, his engagement. He had been a pawn on a board he didn't even know existed.
"And Jolene?" Grant asked. "Where does she fit into your corporate merger?"
"She didn't," Monica said sharply, her mask slipping for a fraction of a second. She glared at Jolene's pregnant stomach. "She was a mistake. An affair that resulted in a highly inconvenient heir. Desmond was supposed to handle her five months ago. He promised me she was dead."
"Until Vance hid her," Grant said.
"Vance is an idiot who thought he could play the game," Monica sneered. "He contacted me yesterday. Tried to sell me the ledger and the girl for a seat on the new board. I told him I'd think about it. Instead, I tracked you."
She gestured with the gun toward the glass table. "Kick the key over here, Grant."
Grant looked down at the silver key. Then he looked at Monica.
"If I give you the key, you kill us both," Grant said calmly.
"If you don't give me the key, I shoot her first, then you, and I take it anyway," Monica countered. "Your choice."
Grant slowly reached down to the table. His hand hovered over the key.
But he didn't grab the silver metal.
Instead, his fingers closed around the heavy, solid copper pocket watch his father had given him—the watch he had taken out and set on the table when he arrived.
With a sudden, violent twist of his wrist, Grant hurled the heavy copper watch directly at Monica’s face.
Monica flinched, throwing her arms up to protect her eyes.
The gun fired. Pfft. The suppressed shot shattered a vase behind Grant’s head.
Before Monica could recover and aim again, Grant was across the room. He slammed into her, driving his shoulder into her chest. They crashed into the hallway wall. The gun clattered to the hardwood floor, sliding out of reach.
Monica fought back fiercely, her nails clawing at his face, but Grant pinned her against the wall, his forearm pressing against her collarbone.
"Don't move," he snarled.
Monica stopped struggling, breathing heavily, glaring at him with pure hatred. "You can't stop this, Grant. My family’s men are already downstairs. Desmond's men are on their way. You're completely surrounded."
Grant ignored her. He grabbed a heavy silk tie from the hallway closet and expertly bound her hands behind her back, tying her to the heavy iron radiator in the hall.
He ran back to the living room. Jolene was standing now, clutching her stomach, her face pale.
"We have to move," Grant said, scooping up the silver key and tossing it into his pocket.
He grabbed Jolene’s hand. They moved to the service elevator in the back of the penthouse. Grant swiped his override card. The doors opened.
As they stepped inside, the main doors to the penthouse exploded inward with a deafening crash. Heavy footsteps pounded into the apartment.
Grant hit the button for the basement garage. The doors slid shut just as three men in tactical gear burst into the living room.
The elevator began to descend.
Jolene let out a sharp, sudden gasp. She leaned heavily against the metal wall of the elevator, her knees buckling.
Grant caught her, lowering her gently to the floor. "Jolene? Are you hit?"
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She shook her head, her face contorted in agony. She gripped his arm, her fingernails biting through his jacket.
"No," she gasped, her breathing coming in rapid, shallow bursts. "Grant... my water just broke."
