Chapter 10 - THE THREATFor one second, I could not breathe.
The message glowed on my phone like a lit fuse.
I know where your parents live.
Call off Camille, or their little apartment becomes the next spectacle.
My mother saw my face and reached for me.
“What happened?”
I tried to turn the screen away, but she was faster.
She read the message.
So did my father.
His expression did not change.
That scared me more than anger would have.
Arthur took the phone carefully, photographed the messages with a secure device, and handed it to Dana.
Dana’s voice went flat.
“That was stupid of her.”
My father looked at her.
“Will you arrest her now?”
“We need to verify origin.”
“It came from her number.”
“Then yes, this changes things.”
My mother sat very still.
I knew what she was thinking.
The apartment.
The small kitchen with the uneven cabinet door.
The balcony where she grew basil in chipped pots.
The living room where my father had patched the ceiling himself after a leak.
Olivia had mansions, trusts, shell companies, lawyers, drivers.
My parents had that apartment.
And still she wanted to take even the safety of that from them.
I turned to Arthur.
“Move them.”
My father shook his head.
“No.”
“Dad.”
“No, Clara.”
My mother touched his hand.
“David.”
He looked at both of us.
“I will not let that woman chase us out of our home like rats.”
“She threatened you.”
“She humiliated us in front of three hundred people. We survived that too.”
“This is different.”
“Yes,” he said. “This time we know she is coming.”
Dana leaned forward.
“Mr. Hayes, accepting temporary protective relocation is not surrender. It is strategy.”
My father’s pride fought his common sense.
My mother settled the matter.
“We are not sleeping in that apartment tonight.”
He looked at her.
She smiled gently.
“I love your stubbornness. I do not intend to die because of it.”
His shoulders lowered.
“Fine.”
Arthur arranged immediate protection. Two security vehicles were sent to the apartment. A team collected essential documents, family photos, medication, and my mother’s basil plants because my father insisted she would worry about them.
By then, the threat had already reached investigators.
Dana stepped away to coordinate.
When she returned, her face was grim.
“Olivia’s attorney claims her phone was stolen.”
I laughed.
“She used that already?”
“Apparently the phone disappeared shortly after the board vote.”
Arthur’s gaze sharpened.
“How convenient.”
“Very. We are checking carrier data.”
My father stared out the window.
“People like her always have three exits.”
Camille’s street faded behind us, but reporters followed for six blocks before Arthur’s driver lost them through a private garage beneath Devereux House.
Inside, the situation had escalated.
The lobby television showed Olivia’s face beside my mother’s fall.
STIRLING SCANDAL WIDENS AS OLD ALLEGATIONS RESURFACE
Camille’s name had not yet been broadcast, but rumors were moving.
Fast.
A Devereux staff member approached Arthur.
“Sterling PR just released another statement.”
He read it aloud.
“Mrs. Olivia Sterling categorically denies all allegations of financial misconduct and personal wrongdoing. She is the victim of a coordinated smear campaign led by individuals seeking financial leverage after a canceled wedding.”
My mother said, “Individuals?”
My father replied, “That’s us. We’ve been promoted from poverty smell to individuals.”
My mother gave him a look.
He shrugged.
“If I don’t joke, I’ll throw something.”
Arthur continued reading.
“Mrs. Sterling further expresses concern for her son, Ethan, who has been emotionally manipulated during a difficult private matter.”
I turned toward the screen.
There it was.
Olivia’s next move.
If she could not control the story, she would become the victim.
And Ethan would become the trapped son.
The question was whether he would let her.
At 2:15 p.m., he answered.
Not to me.
To everyone.
Ethan Sterling appeared outside Sterling Global headquarters surrounded by cameras. He wore the same suit from the wedding, wrinkled now, tie missing, face pale.
A reporter shouted, “Mr. Sterling, did Clara Devereux manipulate you?”
He looked exhausted.
Then he said, “No.”
The crowd quieted.
“My relationship with Clara was real,” he continued, voice rough. “But my family’s business dealings are under investigation, and I will cooperate fully with authorities.”
Somewhere in the room, Arthur inhaled sharply.
Ethan went on.
“What happened to Clara’s parents last night was unacceptable. My failure to respond was unacceptable. I am ashamed of it.”
My mother’s hand tightened around mine.
A reporter yelled, “Did your mother order documents destroyed?”
Ethan looked straight ahead.
“I have retained counsel and will answer investigators truthfully.”
He left without another word.
It was not redemption.
But it was rupture.
Olivia would see it as betrayal.
That made Ethan useful.
And endangered.
Dana received a call two minutes later.
Her expression changed as she listened.
“What is it?” I asked.
She ended the call.
“Ethan’s statement was not approved by Sterling PR.”
Arthur nodded.
“No surprise.”
Dana looked at me.
“Olivia’s people are trying to locate him.”
A chill moved through me before I could stop it.
I hated that I still cared.
My mother saw.
Of course she did.
“You can hate what he did and still not want him destroyed,” she said softly.
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Yes, you do. You want truth. Sometimes truth requires people we hate to survive long enough to tell it.”
At 3:03 p.m., Ethan called.
This time, I answered.
Not because I forgave him.
Because I needed to know what he would say when his mother was no longer beside him.
His voice came through strained.
“Clara.”
“You have one minute.”
“I found something.”
I stood straighter.
“What?”
“My father’s old safe.”
Arthur, Dana, and my parents all turned toward me.
Ethan continued.
“Mother thought it was empty. It isn’t.”
“Where are you?”
He hesitated.
“That is why I called.”
“Ethan.”
“She has people watching my apartment. My office. The hotel. I think she knows I spoke to the board.”
Dana gestured for me to keep him talking.
“What did you find in the safe?”
“A ledger. Names. Payments. Some are judges. Some are city officials. Some are Sterling board members. Clara, Camille Rivera’s name is in it.”
Dana mouthed: location.
“Where are you?” I repeated.
Ethan breathed hard.
“The old marina warehouse. Sterling Pier Twelve.”
Arthur’s face changed.
“Get out of there,” he said sharply.
Ethan heard him.
“Arthur?”
“Ethan, leave now.”
Too late.
A metallic sound rang through the phone.
Ethan stopped breathing.
Then he whispered, “Someone’s here.”
The line went silent.
I shouted his name.
No answer.
Then a crash.
Footsteps.
A struggle.
And before the call disconnected, I heard Olivia Sterling’s voice.
Soft.
Cold.
May you like
Motherly.
“Oh, Ethan. You always were the weakest investment I ever made.”
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