Jefferson Medina stood in front of the mirror in the boutique, preening like a peacock. On his wrist sat a Rolex Submariner, the gold and steel glinting under the halogen lights.
"This is the one, Brittni," he purred. "It says 'Success' in every language."
Brittni stood behind him, arms crossed, staring at the back of his head. She felt detached, her mind still racing about Ace's disappearance.
"It's forty thousand dollars, Jefferson," she said dully.
"So? We're about to close the IPO. Consider it an investment in the brand image." He turned to her, flashing a bright, empty smile. "Buy it yourself, Jefferson. You're the 'Strategic Advisor,' right?"
Jefferson's face twitched. "Come on, babe. My liquidity is tied up in crypto right now. You know that."
Brittni realized, with a jolt of clarity, that Jefferson had never actually spent his own money on her. Not once.
"Fine," she sighed, reaching into her purse. She felt trapped, guilty for her feelings about Ace, and trying to fill the void with noise. "As an apology for being 'distracted' lately."
She handed her Black Card to the clerk.
Jefferson smirked. He was already taking a photo of the watch on his wrist.
"Tag Ace," he whispered, leaning in close. "Let him see what a real man looks like."
Brittni flinched. "No. Don't tag him. Just... leave it."
Jefferson rolled his eyes. He posted it anyway. New addition. Thanks, Queen @Brittni_Ramirez.
Meanwhile, in the Hubbard dining room, silence reigned. The only sound was the clinking of silver against china.
Ace's phone buzzed on the table.
He glanced at the notification.
"Something interesting?" Dosha asked, leaning in. She smelled of expensive perfume and malice.
"Just a rat showing off a piece of cheese," Ace replied, cutting his steak with surgical precision.
Harve cleared his throat. "The Foley Group is facing a liquidity crisis. Calista Foley needs a husband who can stabilize their stock. You are that husband, Ace."
"And I need a wife who doesn't post her dinner on Instagram," Ace said, his eyes flicking to Jaiden.
Jaiden slammed his fork down. "Father, this is ridiculous. Ace has been gone for five years. He's been laying bricks! He doesn't know the first thing about mergers!"
"I know how to identify a weak point, Jaiden," Ace said softly. "For instance, your margin calls on the South Hamptons project. You're over-leveraged by forty percent."
The room went dead silent. Jaiden's face turned a sickly shade of pale.
"How did you...?" Jaiden stammered.
"I have eyes everywhere. Even in the sewers," Ace said. He took a sip of his wine.
Harve looked at Ace. There was a spark in the old man's eyes. Not love. Pride.
"The meeting with Calista is tomorrow," Harve said. "Be ready."
Ace nodded. He looked back at his phone. He saw Jefferson's post.
He typed a text to Sen. One word.
Execute.
In Chicago, a heavy-set man in a dark suit walked into the lobby of the building where Jefferson rented his office space. He carried a clipboard and an eviction notice.
Upstairs, Jefferson was admiring his watch when his phone rang.
"Mr. Medina? This is First National Bank. We've detected some suspicious activity on your accounts. We're freezing your line of credit pending an investigation."
"What?" Jefferson shouted. "I didn't authorize a freeze!"
"It's an automated protocol, sir. For your protection."
The line went dead.
Ace finished his steak. He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. The war had begun.
