“Tell them to check the basement.”
Adrian’s face hollowed into pure, animal terror. Charles lunged to silence Maya, but heavy fists were already pounding on the front doors.
“Police! Open up!”
As uniformed officers flooded the candlelit dining room, Charles instantly recovered his aristocratic arrogance. “Officers, a simple misunderstanding,” he barked, straightening his cuffs. “I am Charles Sterling. I play golf with your Commissioner. My son will be out on bail in an hour, and this hysterical girl will get absolutely nothing.”
Eleanor sneered at Claire, clutching her diamond necklace. “You really thought a scratched forehead would ruin us? We own this city.”
Claire didn’t flinch. She lifted a white linen napkin, delicately dabbing the fresh crimson trailing down her left temple. A single tear broke rank from her right eye, but her gaze instantly hardened into absolute, freezing ice.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Claire said. The chilling calmness in her voice made the room’s temperature plummet.
She abruptly ended the 911 call and opened a secure, encrypted dialer.
Eleanor’s smug mask shattered. “Who are you calling?” she stammered, hands fluttering defensively over her chest.
Pinned against the mahogany table by two officers, Adrian twisted his head and caught sight of the contact name on Claire’s screen. The last ounce of bravado drained from his body.
“Put the phone down!” Adrian shrieked, raw, unhinged hysteria tearing through his throat.
Claire didn’t blink. She tapped the screen, her eyes dead, brimming with lethal resolve and vengeance. She raised the black smartphone to her ear.
When the deep, gravelly voice answered, Claire spoke with earth-shattering finality.
“Dad,” she whispered. “The Sterlings just breached the contract. You can send the cleaners to the basement.”