Chapter 3 - THE RAT IN THE SYSTEM
By day sixty, the illusion required even greater precision.
Sienna had moved fully into my master bedroom. Every evening, I could hear music blasting through the ceiling—loud, thumping bass from parties they held for their high-society friends, celebrating Richard’s upcoming "independent empire." They didn't care that a supposed dying woman was lying on the floor below them. In fact, they used my condition as a sick party topic.
"To Victoria!" I heard a male voice toast through the open balcony window above one evening. "May she find peace, and may Richard find her bank accounts!"
Roars of drunken laughter echoed across the courtyard.
I sat at my desk in the guest room, dressed in black silk pajamas, eating a bowl of organic salmon and wild rice provided by my private chef-turned-nurse. My body was back to its peak athletic shape—lean, strong, and energized.
Suddenly, my private laptop chimed. An alert flashed red on the screen.
WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS ATTEMPT ON VANCE HOLDINGS PRIMARY SERVER.
I narrowed my eyes, tapping the keys quickly to trace the IP address. The breach was coming from inside my own house—specifically, from the study upstairs.
Richard was trying to force open my private cloud drives to execute an early transfer of my personal trust funds.
I didn't stop the breach. Instead, I opened a backdoor access terminal and watched his screen in real-time through a mirroring protocol.
On my screen, I saw Richard sitting in his leather chair upstairs, sweating profusely over a cognac glass, staring at a document titled VANCE HOLDINGS - MASTER ASSET DISTRIBUTION.
Beside him stood Sienna, wearing my diamond necklace, massaging his shoulders.
"Did you get into the offshore accounts yet?" Sienna asked impatiently. "The contractor for the mansion rebuild wants a five-hundred-thousand-dollar deposit by Monday."
"I'm trying!" Richard growled, slamming his fist onto the mahogany desk. "Her passwords are all tied to her father’s legacy protocols! Everything requires a physical keycard or an unexpired biometric scan!"
"Can't you just take her thumbprint while she’s asleep?" Sienna suggested coldly. "She’s practically in a coma anyway. Just drag her hand across the scanner."
I stared at the screen, my eyes narrowing.
Take my thumbprint while I’m asleep.
They were getting desperate. Day ninety was approaching, and Richard needed those assets unlocked before the hedge fund managers signed the IPO contracts.
"No," Richard muttered on screen. "The system uses live pulse detection. If her blood pressure is too low or if she's dead, the vault locks permanently for seven years under probate law. I need her alive and breathing when she signs the final authorization."
"Then force her!" Sienna snapped, her beautiful face twisting into an ugly sneer. "Withhold her pain medication! Let her suffer until she signs whatever you put in front of her!"
Richard looked at Sienna, a dark, opportunistic glint flashing in his eyes. "You know... that’s not a bad idea. Cut off the hospice nurse. No more morphine until she signs the final waiver."
Downstairs in the dark, I closed my laptop with a quiet click.
They weren't just greedy; they were sociopathic. They were ready to use physical torture to strip me of my life's work.
I picked up my phone and dialed my head of security, a former MI6 operative named Vance.
"Vance," I said softly.
"Ma'am," his deep voice replied instantly. "Standing by."
"Richard and Sienna are planning to cut my 'medications' tomorrow to force a signature," I informed him. "I want you to intercept the hospice agency he hired. Replace their staff with our private security personnel disguised as medical workers. If Richard attempts any physical coercion, I want every second recorded on hidden 4K cameras."
"Consider it done, Mrs. Sterling," Vance replied. "And the Ritz-Carlton preparations for Day 90?"
"Is the media access locked?"
"Every major financial news network in North America has received an exclusive, embargoed invitation to 'The Sterling Dynasty Major Announcement,'" Vance confirmed with a low chuckle. "Richard thinks he booked the hall for his IPO. He has no idea we purchased the Ritz-Carlton holding company three days ago through an offshore subsidiary. You own the venue, ma'am."
I leaned back in my chair, looking at the calendar on the wall.
Day 61.
May you like
Twenty-nine days left.
"Let them play their games a little longer, Vance," I whispered, watching the stars shine brightly through the glass. "The higher they climb, the harder the crash."
