Chapter Seventy-One: Threats and Champagne

The private dining room at Le Bernardin felt like a different planet from all the corporate bullshit and inheritance drama. Candlelight bounced off crystal glasses, good wine sat breathing in fancy decanters, and for the first time in weeks, I was eating dinner with people who actually gave a damn if I lived or died.

"To the woman who just became the scariest person at this table," Jules said, lifting her champagne with a grin that was half proud, half trouble. "And somehow kept her head on straight."

"The night's still young," I said, touching my glass to hers. "Give me time."

Across the table, Sana Van Alston—my cousin, still getting used to that idea—smiled without looking like she was about to bolt. Away from her mother and that suffocating boardroom, she looked different. Younger. Like she could actually breathe for once.

"I still can't wrap my head around what you did," she said. "When you walked into that first meeting, I figured my mother was going to tear you apart."

"She sure as hell tried," Dominic said, his hand finding mine under the table. "Lucky for us, Scarlett fights dirty."

"Dirtier than anyone saw coming," Jules added. "You see the news today? They're calling her the 'Avenging Heiress.' Business Week wants her on their cover."

"Oh God, please no," I said. More cameras and reporters sounded like my personal version of hell. "I'm done with publicity."

"Too late," Dominic said, checking his phone. "Forbes called. Wall Street Journal too. And some producer from 60 Minutes won't stop leaving messages."

"What did you tell them?"

"That you're too busy crushing corporate scumbags to chat."

Sana actually laughed—a sound I was still figuring out. "You know, before all this happened, I thought our family was boring as hell. Just endless meetings about numbers and market projections."

"And now?" Jules asked.

"Now I'm pretty sure we're all criminals and I kind of love it." She raised her glass again. "Way better than the old version."

"Speaking of family," I said, turning to look at her, "I owe you big time. Without your help getting into Victoria's place, none of this happens."

"I barely did anything," Sana said, her cheeks going pink. "Drew you a map and swiped a key card."

"You put your neck on the line for someone you barely knew," Dominic said. "That's not nothing."

"She wasn't some stranger," Sana said. "She was family. And you help family, even when it scares the crap out of you."

Something about the way she said it hit me hard. A month ago, I didn't have anybody. Tonight I'm sitting with people who chose to stick around when walking away would've been easier.

"So what's next?" Jules asked, cutting into her fish. "Now that you basically own half the business world, what's the plan?"

"First, we finish what we started with Blackstone," I said. "Make sure every company he screwed gets their shot at justice. After that..."

"After that?" Sana asked.

"We make sure this crap doesn't happen again. Start a foundation or something. Protect the little guys from getting eaten alive."

"The Victoria Van Alston Foundation?" Dominic suggested.

"I like that," Sana said. "Grandmother would too. She always said business should build things up, not knock them down."

"How's she doing?" I asked. "Any changes?"

"The doctors say she's holding steady. Her brain scans look good, she reacts when they poke at her. They think she hears us when we talk."

"She woke up long enough to call me after that press conference," I said. "Actually said 'my granddaughter.'"

"She's been waiting twenty-six years to say that," Sana said quietly. "My mother used to get pissed when Grandmother talked about 'the missing piece.' Said dwelling on old stuff was bad for business."

"Your mother has some pretty weird ideas about what's bad for business," Jules said.

"Had," I said. "Past tense. Maeve's done calling shots at Van Alston."

"She won't just disappear," Sana warned. "My mother doesn't quit. She'll find another way to come at you."

"Let her try," I said, and I was kind of shocked at how calm I sounded. "I'm not the same person she tried to push around two weeks ago."

"No kidding," Jules said. "Two weeks ago you were hiding in a hospital room jumping at shadows. Tonight you're planning to take on every corporate asshole in America."

"Growth," Dominic said, and the way he smiled made my heart skip. "It's been something to watch."

"Something and completely terrifying," Jules said. "Yesterday she asked permission to leave the house. Today she's hiring hit squads to take down her mother-in-law."

"Future ex-mother-in-law," I said. "Once Titan digs up what I think they're going to find."

"What do you think they'll find?" Sana asked.

"Enough to put Lydia Blackwood behind bars until she's too old to remember her own name."

We kept talking as dinner went on—family stories, business plans, Jules making increasingly creative threats against anyone stupid enough to mess with me. For the first time in forever, I felt normal. Safe. Like maybe the worst part was over.

That's when my phone buzzed.

Unknown number. Almost ten at night.

I almost ignored it. Unknown numbers had been nothing but bad news lately. But something made me look.

Congratulations on your inheritance. Too bad you won't live long enough to enjoy it. - A friend.

My blood went cold.

"Scarlett?" Dominic's voice sounded like it was coming from underwater. "What's wrong?"

I handed him the phone, watched his face go from worried to furious.

"What is it?" Jules asked, instantly on alert.

I passed the phone around, watched each face as they read the message. Sana went white. Jules went stone still. Dominic looked like he was mentally planning several murders.

"Could be some random crazy," Jules said, but she didn't sound like she believed it. "Someone who saw your picture in the news."

"Could be," I said. "Probably isn't."

"We should call the cops," Sana said.

"Cops can't do much about a text from a burner phone," Dominic said. "But Titan can."

"I'm calling them tonight," I said, my brain already switching into survival mode. "Full threat analysis. New security setup."

"Good," Jules said. "Because whoever sent this just screwed themselves."

"How?" Sana asked.

"They threatened someone I protect," Jules said, and her voice carried the kind of promise that made smart people very nervous. "That always ends badly."

"We should go," Dominic said, signaling for the check. "Get somewhere safer while we figure out who's behind this."

"The penthouse?" I asked.

"The penthouse. Full lockdown until we know what we're dealing with."

While we waited for our coats, I found myself scanning the restaurant with new eyes. Any of these fancy diners could be watching us. Any waiter could be feeding information to someone. Any normal-looking person having dinner could be planning to kill me.

"Hey," Sana said quietly. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I said automatically.

"No, you're not. You look like you're ready to run or start swinging."

She was right. Every muscle in my body was wound tight, every instinct screaming about dangers I couldn't see.

"I just..." I stopped, trying to find the words. "I thought it was over. I thought taking down Blackstone meant I could stop watching my back."

"Maybe it's just some nutjob who saw your picture," she said.

"Maybe," I said. "Probably not."

"Then we handle it," Jules said, appearing next to us with her coat and a look that promised pain for anyone dumb enough to threaten her people. "Same way we've handled everything else."

"Together," Dominic added, his arm sliding around my waist.

"Together," I repeated, feeling some of the tension ease.

Walking out into the Manhattan night, I kept my chin up and my shoulders back. Whoever sent that message wanted me scared, wanted me running, wanted me to feel like the victim I used to be.

But that person was gone.

I was Scarlett Blackwood, a Van Alston female. I controlled a global empire, I'd destroyed corporate predators, and apparently I was worth threatening.

Let them come.

I'd survived everything else they'd thrown at me.

I'd survive this too.