Rising From Ashes: The CEO's Secret Queen

tower in the Financial District, close enough to the stock exchange that Ale

ed half her face. The uniform of a woman who didn't want to be remembered, who moved throug

e entered, her smile automatic,

ave an ap

ard. I'm here to

slight parting of lips. Blanchard. The woman whose suicide attempt had been in yeste

meetings all day. If you'

ptionist see her eyes, the exhaustion in them, the desperation she didn't have to fake. "Tell him I know about the short

ndra could see her calculating-scandal, publicity, th

mom

t studying the firm's credentials, the photographs of Arthur Marr with politic

e preserved look of the very wealthy, the tan that came from St. Barts

lt like polished wood. "I was just saying to Lilith that

, the position of the desk that allowed him to face the door while visitors had thei

chair and settled behind his desk, steepling

es of marriage, the temptations of-" He waved a hand, inclusive, dismissive. "-youth. B

ooking down at the street below, the ant-like movement of

e one who financed Cary Castro's short position against Blanchard Group. The one wh

eard him shift in his chair, the creak o

know what

verywhere at once. "I have documentation. Emails. Wire transfer records. The kind of evidence that doesn't just implicate your client-it

enial, anger, calculation, and finally the cold pragmatism

do you

tremor in his hands. "Who hired you? Who wanted Blanchard taken down? Who's been

he security camera, then

structed authority. "Because the alternative is me walking out of here and calling the U.S. Attorney's

rns. But nothing that would survive discovery, that would hold up in court, that

previous life and this one, that the appearance of ce

that appeared at his hairline, in the way his fi

nies in Cyprus. They approached me six months ago, looking for access to informati

run

ted email, payments through cryptocurrency." He laughed, bitter.

or. But the pattern was becoming clear. Someone with immense resources. Someone

Lil

ng about this. She's-she's been manipulat

n his desk. "Or is she the one who suggested Cary to your mysterious clie

ing back at the man who had helped orchestrate her destruction, who had prof

fund. The one you don't know an

pened. Closed.

ed. "They call themsel

orners of the market for years. A phantom entity, a financial leviathan that moved without leaving footprints. Holt's

mother's name and is using it as a weapon." The realization was a shard of ice in her gut. Someon

voice distant, automatic.

l and watched her reflection multiply, the same image she'd seen in the hotel elevato

ge, a taunt, a declaration of war agai

armed with nothing but borrowed threats and a l

hrough it without seeing, her mind racing through impl

ldn't reveal her own hidden empire, her own secret identity,

race this shadow Aurelian, to find its operators, to und

ne

. A text from an

k. The rooftop garden at the

ound stone. The Whitmore. The same hotel where she had found Cary last night. The same buildi

e doors, surround herself with the se

ayed, who was moving pieces she hadn't seen o

sky, gray with approachin

But she woul

situation. Location sharing with a dead drop. Encrypted recording to cloud storage. A ti

victim, the fool, the woman who walked into

atever they wanted, they were about to