Divorced at Midnight, Desired by Dawn
The connection went dead, the sharp, electronic disconnect tone echoing off the mahogany walls.
Chloe looked up at Marcus.
Marcus stood by the window, the morning light catching the raw, terrifying clarity in his blue eyes. The corporate kingdom was theirs, the logistics hubs were secure, but the trap his father had set five years ago was still open, waiting for them to take the final step.
“We have two hours,” Marcus murmured, his voice dropping into a low, icy baritone that held no room for defeat.
Chloe looked down at her tablet, where the digital clock was ticking steadily toward ten. The execution was complete, but the signature was still dry.