All Chapters of Revenge Of The Secret Heiress : Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

The morning sun hadn't even fully cleared the horizon when Christopher’s black sedan pulled onto the gravel lot of the old Delacroix archive warehouse. The air down by the industrial docks was thick, smelling heavily of saltwater, rust, and damp wood. A dense fog rolled off the water, wrapping itself around the towering steel structures.Anika sat perfectly straight in the passenger seat, her hands flat on her leather folder. She was determined to find the physical backup drive before Anna could lay a finger on it. But as she stared at the massive, rusty iron gates blocking the driveway, her brow furrowed."We can't just cut the chains," Anika muttered, her voice low in the quiet car. "This facility is locked under senior board jurisdiction. It requires a dual fingerprint scan from a director just to clear the main electronic seal."Christopher kept the engine idling, his dark blue eyes tracking the path. "Santiago knows that. That's why he isn't trying to hack it from his office. He’

The plan was simple. Too simple, in hindsight."We knock, we ask him about the Rivera complaint, and we let him hang himself on his own front step," Anika said, checking her reflection in Tobey's passenger visor. Plain blazer. Forgettable face. The mid-level manager costume. "He doesn't know who I am. He'll say something stupid in front of a witness.""And if he doesn't?""Then we come back with the board's lawyers and take his whole career. But I want him comfortable first. Arrogant men give you the rope for free."Santiago's house was exactly what Anika expected from a man who'd terrorized three departments and skimmed two promotions: big driveway, ugly fountain, a security camera pointed at them before they even reached the door.The door opened on a housekeeper, who looked them up and down and stepped aside for — Santiago himself. Fresh off a Saturday, polo shirt, drink already in hand at 2 p.m. His eyes did the thing Anika hated most in the world: the quick scan, the dismissal, t

Anika's phone buzzed against the marble. Casey's name, then Christopher's. She turned it face-down."Mr. Santiago," she said, sitting back down across from him. "You mentioned my people. Finish the story."Santiago studied her for a long moment over the rim of his glass. Then he got up, went to the window, and looked out at his ridiculous fountain like it was fifteen years ago."Finish it," he murmured. "Sure. Why not. Nobody who remembers it ever says it out loud anymore." He turned back to her. "I was a junior accountant back then. Your father's company didn't bank with us — your father didn't bank with anyone if he could help it. 'Sovereign' — that's what the old-timers called him. Mr. Delacroix, the sovereign man. He banked himself, he signed his own papers, and he told the whole city the same thing, over and over: no partner, no patron, no debts.""He sounds proud," Anika said, in a voice that gave away nothing."He sounds dead," Santiago said flatly. "That's what pride gets you

The elevator was still chiming.Anika crossed her living room without a sound, grabbed the heavy little bronze statue off the shelf — the one Carlos called "the polite argument winner" — and put her back to the wall beside the door. Whoever had a key to this floor had about four seconds before she found out why.The doors slid open."—and I told him, madam does not eat shellfish, what is this catering—"Anika lowered the statue.Carlos Shay stood in the elevator with a canvas grocery bag in one hand and the deep, offended dignity of a seventy-something butler who has just ridden a private elevator up fourteen floors of unapproved grocery shopping. Behind him, a younger man she didn't recognize held three more bags and looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else."Young mistress," Carlos said calmly, taking in her stance, the statue, and the situation with one sweeping glance. "Am I correct in assuming the door code was changed again without telling me?""Carlos!" Through the w

Monday morning, Santiago was still a free man, and that was the only thing wrong with the week. Anika watched him through the glass wall of her corner office — well, "her" office, the mid-level manager one nobody knew she never actually needed — as he strolled through the floor like a man who owned it. He shook hands. He laughed too loud at somebody's joke. He had no idea what was coming, and honestly, that was the fun part. Tobey slipped in with two coffees and a laptop under his arm, and shut the door with his foot. "Tell me you have it," Anika said. "Oh, I have it." He set the laptop on her desk and opened it like a man presenting a crown. "Saturday, 2:14 p.m., one Mr. Santiago's own front-door camera, courtesy of the man himself. He pulled his own footage to review it — standard for his paranoid little security app — and his app, like most things about him, is cheap and badly protected. Uncle Freddie taught me how these things work when I was fourteen, don't ask why." He hit pl