Chapter 7 - The One Person Nobody SuspectedCybersecurity traced the download to Ashford Dynamics headquarters.
Specifically, Grant’s executive floor.
At 2:13 a.m.
Grant had been with me and our attorneys at the time.
Sloane had been in a secured hotel under counsel supervision.
Calder’s access had been revoked.
That left a smaller circle.
The CIO.
Grant’s chief of staff.
Two systems administrators.
And Daniel Reeves, Ashford Dynamics’ general counsel.
Daniel had worked beside Grant for nine years.
He had attended our Christmas dinners.
He had once flown across the country when my mother was dying because Grant couldn’t leave a merger negotiation.
When suspicion fell on him, I refused to believe it.
Then Owen showed me the logs.
Daniel’s building credential.
Daniel’s workstation.
Daniel’s authentication device.
At 2:13 a.m.
“Could be cloned,” Grant said.
“Yes,” Owen replied.
“Could be planted.”
“Yes.”
“So this proves nothing.”
“Correct.”
Grant stared at him.
“But?”
Owen opened another file.
“A payment.”
Daniel had received $2.4 million through a Cayman entity.
The entity traced back to a Sebastian-controlled fund.
Grant sat down.
“No.”
I understood.
Betrayal has different weights depending on who carries the knife.
Daniel wasn’t just an employee.
He was Grant’s friend.
“Maybe there’s an explanation,” Grant said.
Eleanor looked at him.
“You used to say that to Victoria.”
Grant flinched.
She was right.
We didn’t confront Daniel.
Not yet.
Instead, we watched him.
Friday’s gala went forward.
Eight hundred guests gathered at the Metropolitan Museum’s Temple of Dendur for the annual Vale Foundation benefit.
Sebastian arrived at eight.
Perfect tuxedo.
Perfect smile.
Completely unaware we knew about Daniel.
Grant arrived twenty minutes later.
Alone.
The press noticed.
So did Sebastian.
I entered at nine.
Cameras flashed.
Reporters shouted questions about Ashford Dynamics.
I smiled.
Said nothing.
Inside, Grant passed me without acknowledgment.
Our estrangement was no longer pretend, which made pretending easier.
At 9:40, Sebastian approached him near the west gallery.
At 9:43, they disappeared into a private donor room.
Daniel entered two minutes later.
That was unexpected.
Eleanor whispered through my earpiece.
“Daniel wasn’t supposed to be involved.”
“I know.”
“Do not enter.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
That was a lie.
I moved closer.
Through the partially open door, I heard voices.
Sebastian.
Grant.
Daniel.
“You brought it?” Sebastian asked.
Grant answered.
“Payment first.”
Daniel laughed.
“You’re negotiating from a weak position.”
Grant’s voice changed.
“You.”
Silence.
Then Daniel said, “Don’t look so wounded.”
“You leaked everything.”
“You made it easy.”
“You sat at my table.”
“Yes.”
“My wife trusted you.”
Daniel laughed.
“Your wife was smarter than you.”
I hated that this man was using truth as an insult.
Grant said, “Where are the Aurora files?”
“Safe.”
“With Sebastian?”
Sebastian answered.
“Enough.”
Then something changed.
A chair scraped.
Grant’s voice became sharper.
“This wasn’t the deal.”
“What wasn’t?”
“You said fifty million.”
Sebastian chuckled.
“You’re not receiving fifty million.”
Then Daniel spoke.
“Actually, Grant, you’re not leaving this room with anything.”
My blood ran cold.
Eleanor heard it too.
“Security moving now.”
I opened the door.
Sebastian’s face transformed.
Daniel held a small pistol.
Grant stood against the far wall.
For one bizarre moment, nobody moved.
Then Sebastian hissed, “What are you doing here?”
“Hosting.”
Daniel pointed the weapon toward me.
“Close the door.”
I didn’t.
Security officers appeared behind me.
Daniel grabbed Grant.
Gun against his ribs.
Everything happened quickly.
People shouting.
Sebastian backing away.
Grant driving his shoulder into Daniel.
The weapon fired.
The sound was deafening.
Someone screamed.
Grant fell.
I remember nothing clearly after that.
Only pieces.
Blood on white marble.
Security tackling Daniel.
Sebastian pressed against a wall.
My knees hitting the floor beside Grant.
“Grant!”
His eyes opened.
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been shot.”
“Shoulder.”
There was blood everywhere.
“Fine is not the word.”
Even then, he laughed.
Paramedics rushed in.
The bullet had passed through the upper shoulder without striking an artery.
He was unbelievably lucky.
Daniel was arrested.
Sebastian was detained for questioning.
The gala became national news within twenty minutes.
But the real explosion happened overnight.
Daniel began cooperating.
Apparently loyalty became less sacred when attempted murder charges entered the conversation.
He gave investigators everything.
Bank accounts.
Communications.
Instructions.
Sebastian had funded Calder’s schemes.
Calder stole from Ashford Dynamics while weakening its balance sheet.
The goal was to force emergency restructuring.
Core technology would then be separated.
Sebastian would acquire it through hidden entities at a fraction of its value.
But there was another motive.
Vale Capital.
Sebastian had spent years positioning himself as the responsible alternative to me.
If Ashford collapsed publicly after billions in Vale-linked financing, I would face enormous pressure from our family board.
Sebastian expected to remove me from control too.
Two empires.
One plan.
What he hadn’t expected was Grant realizing the company was being drained.
What nobody expected was Sloane turning on Calder to save herself.
And what Sebastian underestimated most was me.
At the hospital, Grant woke around six in the morning.
I sat beside him.
He blinked.
“You’re here.”
“You were shot.”
“Technically grazed.”
“The bullet went through you.”
“Dramatic phrasing.”
I almost smiled.
Then his expression changed.
“Sebastian?”
“Detained.”
“Daniel?”
“Arrested.”
“The files?”
“Still missing.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“Damn.”
“Rest.”
“No.”
“Grant.”
“No. Aurora matters more.”
“Not more than you bleeding to death.”
“I’m not bleeding to death.”
“Would you like me to arrange it?”
That made him laugh, which made him wince.
Then he looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
“For getting shot?”
“For all of it.”
I didn’t answer.
“I spent years thinking your support made me look weak.”
He stared at the ceiling.
“I was an idiot.”
“Yes.”
“I thought if everyone knew how much you had done, none of my achievements would belong to me.”
“That was never true.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“I do now.”
He looked at me.
“You never made me smaller.”
“No.”
“I made you smaller because I was scared of standing next to someone powerful.”
That one landed.
Not because it repaired anything.
But because finally, finally, he understood the disease.
I touched his hand.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Just acknowledgment.
Then my phone rang.
Owen.
“I found Aurora.”
I stood.
“Where?”
“Daniel uploaded it to a private transfer server.”
“Can we stop delivery?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“There’s a scheduled release.”
“When?”
“Eleven this morning.”
Four hours.
“To whom?”
“That’s the problem.”
“What?”
“The receiving entity appears to be connected to a foreign defense contractor.”
Grant heard.
He tried sitting up.
I pushed him down.
“Stay.”
“Victoria—”
“I said stay.”
For once in his life, Grant Ashford listened.
I walked out of the hospital room.
May you like
At 7:08 Friday morning, Vale Research initiated an emergency global intellectual-property containment protocol.
And by eleven, I would find out whether the empire my grandfather spent a lifetime building had already been sold.
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