Chapter 201
No.1
Elisa pushed her weight against the heavy revolving glass doors of Mather Medical Center.
The bitter November wind of Manhattan immediately whipped the hem of her black cashmere coat around her legs. She did not look back. She did not spare a single glance for the grand lobby where August Chambers stood frozen,realizing he no longer existed in her world.
She walked with rapid, sharp steps toward the black, bulletproof Maybach parked at the curb.
She pulled open the heavy passenger door and dropped into the leather seat. The intense heat of the car's climate control instantly wrapped around her freezing skin.
Alastair Cromwell sat behind the steering wheel. He should have been celebrating._Elisa had just secured the Netflix video file-the absolute proof that her half-sister Allena had poisoned her own brother. But Alastair was not smiling. He stared at the center console screen, his face so dark it looked like a thunderstorm.①
Elisa felt the immediate shift in the air. She pulled the seatbelt across her chest.
"Did Aethel's servers get hit?" Elisa asked,her brow furrowing.
Alastair grabbed a heavily encrypted Wall Street briefing printed on thick paper and shoved it across the console. His jaw was tight.
"Worse," Alastair said, his voice a low rumble."Allena's little stunt in the hospital worked. She screamed that you were running illegaldrug trials on children. The rumor hit the wire. It triggered a massive chain reaction."
No.2
Elisa looked down. Her pupils contracted into tiny black dots.
The brief showed the four top-tier venture capital firms scheduled for Aethel's Series B funding. Ten minutes ago, all four had sent official letters of withdrawal.
"The compliance departments on Wall Street have a zero-tolerance policy for pediatric medical scandals," Alastair ground out, slamming his fist against the leather steering wheel. "They didn't even wait for the NYPD to investigate. They just cut the financial cord."
A sharp, stabbing pain flared in Elisa's lower back.It was the L4 spinal disc injury, a permanent reminder of the day August's bodyguards had violently pinned her to the floor. The stress made the damaged nerves scream.①
She took a slow, deep breath. Her brain, trained as the elite Al architect 'Faye', immediately began calculating the cash burn rate. Aethel Intelligence needed hundreds of millions to keep Project Chiron alive. Without that money, the Al would die before it ever reached the market.
The silence in the heavy armored car was suffocating.
Suddenly, the burner phone sitting on the center console vibrated. The screen lit up with an unknown Silicon Valley area code.
Elisa picked it up and pressed answer.
"Well, well," the arrogant, oily voice of Preston Vance echoed through the speakerphone.
No.3
Preston was a billionaire venture capitalist. He was also a man Elisa deeply despised.
"I hear Aethel ran into a little cash flow problem this evening," Preston said, his tone dripping with predatory amusement. "I happen to have three
hundred million dollars in liquid capital sitting idle."
Alastair's head snapped toward the phone. His eyes turned instantly lethal. He reached out, his massive hand aiming to snatch the phone and crush it.
Elisa slammed her cold hand down on Alastair's wrist, pinning it to the console.
She felt a violent wave of physiological nausea hit her stomach. Preston was a vulture. But right now,she saw the face of her five-year-old daughter,Kayden,sleeping safely in Long Island. Kayden was the secret she had hidden from August for five years. To protect Kayden, to build a fortress strong enough to withstand the Chambers empire, Elisa needed Aethel to survive. She could not let the company go bankrupt.
"What level of equity dilution are you demanding for the term sheet?" Elisa asked. Her voice was flat,mechanical,completely devoid of human emotion.
Preston let out a low,wet laugh.
"I don't care about the equity, Faye," Preston said."The term sheet for three hundred million is yours.The only condition is that you have dinner with me tonight.Alone."
No.4
It was a naked, humiliating transaction. He was buying her time with his checkbook.
"Go to hell!" Alastair roared, his chest heaving as he tried to rip his arm free.
Elisa dug her fingernails into Alastair's skin. She held him down.
"Time. Place," Elisa said into the phone. She sounded like a machine executing a line of code.
"Le Coucou. Manhattan. Eight o'clock," Preston said smugly. The line went dead.
Alastair stared at Elisa in absolute disbelief. The veins in his neck bulged.
"Why would you submit to that piece of trash?"Alastair demanded, his voice shaking with rage."We can find another way. I can liquidate my personal assets."
Elisa closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the headrest.
"We are out of time, Alastair," Elisa whispered, the exhaustion finally bleeding through. "I need that money as a war fund. Tonight is just a transaction."
No.5
At exactly eight o'clock, the Maybach pulled up to the curb outside Le Coucou.
Elisa stepped out into the freezing night. She had changed into a black, deep-V haute couture gown.The fabric clung to her like a second skin. She did not look like a woman going on a date. She looked like an assassin walking to an execution.
She pushed through the heavy brass doors. The restaurant was a sea of crystal chandeliers and hushed, expensive conversations.
She spotted Preston sitting in a semi-private booth in the corner, swirling a glass of dark red wine.
Elisa walked over and sat down. She did not look at the menu. She reached into her designer clutch,pulled out a thick stack of Aethel's financial projections, and slammed them flat on the white tablecloth.
Preston smiled. He reached across the table, his hand moving to cover hers.
"You look breathtaking when you are desperate,Faye," Preston murmured, his eyes dropping to her chest.
Elisa's eyes went dead.
In a fraction of a second, she pulled a heavy,solid-brass fountain pen from her clutch. She flipped it backward and drove the sharp metal nib directly
No.6
into the soft skin over Preston's radial artery on his wrist.
She didn't break the skin, but the pressure was precise and agonizing.
"Keep your hands on your own side of the table,"Elisa said, her voice dropping to a freezing whisper.
Preston gasped, his face turning pale. He jerked his hand back, rubbing his wrist awkwardly.
Right at that moment, a massive commotion erupted at the entrance of the restaurant. The waiters scrambled, parting like the Red Sea.
August Chambers walked through the doors.
He wore an iron-gray, three-piece bespoke suit.He was surrounded by four older European investment bankers. He looked like a king inspecting his territory.
His dark, predatory eyes swept the room. Like a laser, his gaze locked onto the corner booth.
He saw Elisa. He saw the black, revealing dress.And he saw Preston sitting across from her, pulling his hand back from what looked like an intimate touch.
No.7
August stopped dead in his tracks.
His pupils dilated massively. A violent, toxic wave of pure jealousy exploded in his chest. His breathing hitched. The man who had treated her like garbage for seven years was now staring at her with the possessive rage of a madman.
Elisa felt the heavy, burning weight of his stare.
She slowly turned her head. Her eyes met August's across the crowded room.
A slow, mocking smirk curved the corners of Elisa's lips. She deliberately picked up her crystal wine glass. She raised it in the air, looking directly into August's eyes, and toasted Preston Vance.