Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Arthur Sterling
Before the towering guards could even take a single step toward me, I pressed my hand flat against the contract, pinning it to the table.
"Clause four, subsection B," I announced loudly, ensuring Tariq heard every single syllable. "The routing numbers listed for the European shell companies do not match the cartel's holding accounts. They match a private offshore trust in the Cayman Islands. A trust registered exclusively under the name Grant Maddox."
The silence in the dining room was absolute, suffocating, and terrifying.
Tariq slowly turned his head to look at Grant. The cartel boss’s eyes were pitch black, entirely stripped of human mercy.
"You are skimming fifty million dollars off the top of our laundering agreement?" Tariq whispered, the raw, demonic threat vibrating through the crystal wine glasses.
"No! Tariq, I swear to God, she's lying!" Grant shrieked hysterically, completely abandoning his tough-guy persona. He looked up at me, his handsome face twisted in pure, venomous panic. "Who the hell are you?!"
I reached up to my white collar and slowly unpinned my cheap plastic waitress name tag. I dropped it onto his plate.
"My name isn't Emma the waitress," I replied smoothly, looking dead into his eyes. "My name is Emma Sterling. I am a forensic accountant. And I am Arthur Sterling's daughter."
All the color violently drained from Grant’s face. He physically staggered backward in his chair as if he had just been shot in the chest.
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Arthur Sterling was the brilliant CEO who founded this entire logistics empire. He was also the man Grant had murdered five years ago to steal the company.
👉 Grant realized he wasn't looking at a random employee, but a highly trained daughter who had spent five years planning his funeral.
