Chapter 12 - The Visitor at Bedford Hills
Maximum security at Bedford Hills Correctional Facility smelled of floor wax, industrial bleach, and suppressed violence. Vanessa Sterling sat on the cold steel stool behind the reinforced partition, her manicured nails long gone, her hair dull, wearing a rough orange jumpsuit that rubbed against her collarbones like sandpaper.
Yet her posture remained defiant. When the heavy iron door buzzed open and a guard ushered in a man in a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit, Vanessa didn't flinch. She had been expecting him.
The man didn't pick up the phone immediately. He sat down, adjusted his silver cuff links, and took out a gold Dunhill lighter, turning it over in his fingers before remembering where he was. He had sharp, aristocratic cheekbones, piercing cerulean eyes, and a streak of silver at his right temple. He looked startlingly like a younger, more ruthless Charles Sterling.
Vanessa snatched up the receiver. "You're late, Christian."
Christian Cross smiled—a slow, predatory expression that didn't reach his glacial eyes. He picked up his handset. "Traffic on the Saw Mill Parkway was atrocious. Besides, you look like you’ve adjusted quite well to your natural habitat, Vanessa."
"Don't mock me," she hissed, her face contorting with rage. "I took the fall. Julian took twelve years upstate. Margaret and Daniel think they’ve won. They’re sitting in the penthouse right now, carving up the corporate board like a Thanksgiving turkey!"
"Let them carve," Christian murmured calmly. "A beast is always easiest to slaughter when its belly is full and its eyes are heavy."
"Did you get the offshore credentials?" Vanessa demanded, leaning forward until her nose almost touched the scratch-resistant glass. "The trust Charles established in Vaduz? It requires two biological signatures to liquidate. Julian gave his under power of attorney before the feds froze his assets. If Daniel and the old woman discover you exist—"
"They already know," Christian interrupted smoothly.
Vanessa went dead still. "What?"
"Daniel visited the 44th Street depository forty minutes ago," Christian said, checking his vintage Patek Philippe. "Margaret sent him. The old matriarch always had an instinct for rot. She knows Charles had a secret family. She knows Evelyn didn't die alone. And she knows that eighty percent of the voting shares of Sterling Maritime are tied to the firstborn legitimate bloodline."
A cruel, desperate smile crept back onto Vanessa’s cracked lips. "Then the trap is sprung."
"Indeed," Christian replied softly, standing up from the metal chair. "Enjoy your meager meals, sister-in-law. When I take the Sterling tower, I will ensure they transfer you to a facility with a much nicer view. But remember your place: you were merely the battering ram. I am the conqueror."
May you like
He hung up the phone before Vanessa could scream, turning on his polished leather heel as the iron gate clanged shut behind him.
***
