Chapter 12 - THE FINAL GAMBIT
Julian stared at Ethan, horrified. “What are you talking about?”
“The ledger,” Ethan said, tapping the black book. “Does this contain the records of Richard’s payments to the Syndicate?”
“Yes, but—”
“Sloane thinks she has leverage on me,” Ethan interrupted, his eyes burning with a dangerous focus. “But she doesn’t know I have this. If I give this ledger to the FBI, the Syndicate goes down.”
“The Syndicate will kill you before you make it to the FBI steps!” Julian argued.
“They won’t,” Ethan said smoothly, pulling out his phone. “Because I’m not giving it to the FBI. I’m giving it to Sloane.”
Ethan dialed a number. It was 11:30 PM. Thirty minutes until Sloane’s deadline.
“I hope you’re calling to tell me the ink is dry on the transfer papers, Ethan,” Sloane answered, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
“I dug up the floor, Sloane,” Ethan said, keeping his voice steady.
“And you found poor Uncle Julian. A tragedy. Now, sign the papers.”
“I found a skeleton,” Ethan corrected. “A ceramic one. Along with a ledger detailing exactly how much money your father has been skimming off the top of the Valenti family’s laundering operations for the last ten years.”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“That’s right, Sloane,” Ethan lied smoothly, playing the ultimate bluff. The ledger only showed the loans, but he gambled Richard’s greed had led to theft. “Your father has been stealing from the mob. And I have the proof in my hand.”
He heard Sloane’s breath hitch.
“You’re bluffing,” she whispered, but the confidence was gone.
“Am I? Why don’t you ask Richard why he’s been terrified of an audit? If you don’t drop the charges and plead guilty to extortion by midnight, I will personally mail this ledger to Don Valenti’s front porch.”
“Ethan,” Sloane panicked, dropping the cold persona completely. “Ethan, wait. If the Valentis see that, they’ll kill my whole family.”
“Then you know what to do,” Ethan said coldly. “Midnight, Sloane.”
He hung up.
Ten minutes later, Ethan’s phone buzzed with an alert from his legal team.
Sloane Mercer had officially signed a full confession to corporate espionage, extortion, and fraud, effectively destroying the Mercer company and pleading guilty to all charges.
She had folded.
Ethan let out a long, shaky breath, leaning against the wooden table in the cabin.
Julian looked at him in sheer disbelief. “You bluffed the Mercers with the mob.”
“Sometimes,” Ethan said, pocketing the ledger, “you have to fight fire with a bigger fire.”
Two Months Later
The gallery was brightly lit, filled with soft music and the murmur of hundreds of guests.
It wasn’t a high-society auction this time. It was a public exhibition.
Margaret stood proudly at the front of the hall, giving a tour to a group of art students.
Ethan stood by the back wall, holding two glasses of champagne. He handed one to Leo, who was dressed in a sharp suit, looking every bit the proud Vale heir.
“You ready for this?” Ethan asked.
“I think so,” Leo smiled.
Ethan stepped up to the microphone in the center of the room. The crowd quieted down.
“Welcome, everyone,” Ethan said warmly. “Tonight, we are not selling anything. Tonight, we are sharing a legacy.”
He gestured to the large canvas displayed prominently in the center of the room. It was the farmhouse under the stormy blue sky.
“This painting was created by my grandfather, Arthur Vale Sr.,” Ethan announced. “A man who sacrificed everything to protect his family. And starting tomorrow, the Vale Foundation will fund full art scholarships for underprivileged youth in this city, managed by my cousin, Leo Vale.”
The room erupted in applause.
Leo blushed, waving shyly at the crowd as Margaret beamed with pride.
Ethan stepped back, taking a sip of his champagne.
He looked at the painting. The small crescent moon in the corner seemed to shine under the gallery lights.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
It was a text from an unknown number.
The debt is settled. But watch your back, Mr. Vale. The game never really ends.
Ethan looked at the message, a small, confident smile playing on his lips.
May you like
He slipped the phone back into his pocket, took Leo by the shoulder, and walked into the crowd.
He was ready.
