“There’s something in your drink—the black girl whispered to the billionaire. The man’s hair stood on end when he found out what was there

Stay on the line. He said immediately. Get somewhere public.

Now. Maya walked briskly to a gas station two blocks away. Stepping inside and pretending to browse snacks.

Back at the estate. Cyrus slammed the phone down and barked orders at the head of his security team. I want eyes on her.

She’s not to be a lone note for a second. Later that night. Back in the safety of the estate.

Maya spread out her notes on the dining table. Cyrus stood beside her. Reading the connections she had mapped.

It was a web donors. Shell companies. Politicians all tangled around one name.

Vanessa Blake. This goes deeper than the foundation. Maya whispered.

She’s been building something. Cyrus nodded grimly. Something that hides in plain sight.

The following morning. Cyrus and Maya met with Jensen in a secure underground facility near Culver City. The room was bare except for a round table.

A whiteboard. And a projector. Jensen clicked a remote.

And a series of photos and files appeared. Winslow was spotted boarding a private jet out of Van Nuys Airport two days ago. No flight plan filed.

Likely destination. Grand Junction. Colorado.

There’s a facility out there looks like a data server farm. Owned by one of Harland Ellison’s companies. Maya frowned.

What’s in the server farm? Jensen hesitated. If we’re right. Blackmail.

Audio. Video. Documents.

Every corrupt deal Vanessa’s touched. Every powerful figure she’s compromised. She doesn’t just want revenge-ish.

Wants leverage. Cyrus’s voice was steel. Then we go get it.

Careful. Jensen warned. This isn’t a boardroom anymore.

You’re stepping into her game now. Ugh. Later that day.

While Cyrus and the agent prepared logistics for a legal probe. Maya stayed behind at the estate. She walked the halls with a feeling she couldn’t shake.

Something in the west wing Vanessa’s old study kept drawing her in. She pushed open the tall oak door. Dust floated in sunbeams.

The room was perfectly preserved. A vanity with framed photos. Antique books on the shelves.

And a heavy armoire against the far wall. Maya’s fingers brushed the shelves as she walked. One of the books.

A leather-bound volume on art restoration. Didn’t sit flush. She pulled it.

A faint click echoed. And the armoire creaked open not outward. But backward.

Revealing a narrow corridor behind it. Maya stepped back. Startled.

Then she turned on her phone’s flashlight and stepped inside. The passage was narrow. The walls made of old brick and wood.

At the end was a small locked cabinet. Inside. Beneath a false bottom.

She found what looked like a portable hard drive. And a thin folder labeled simply. For insurance.

She brought it straight to Cyrus. They laid the contents on the desk. USB drives.

Photographs. And a handwritten letter in Vanessa’s perfect cursive. The note read.

If you’re reading this. I’m already gone. But I never played without a backup plan.

And you. Cyrus. Were always predictable.

So I left you a piece just enough to remind you who you underestimated. Um. The drive contained surveillance footage boardroom recordings.

Tapped phone calls. And one clip that made Cyrus go pale. A video of Vanessa sitting in his office six months ago.

Speaking directly to someone off camera. She’s smart that girl. Vanessa said.

But kids always think justice is clean. It never is. That’s what makes them dangerous.

Maya watched Cyrus’s face. She was planning this even before I came? She always knew how to read a threat. He said.

And now they both knew Vanessa hadn’t just betrayed them. She’d built a trap. And Maya had just found the key to unlocking it…