Chapter 2
The wheels touched down on the tarmac,
a smooth,
effortless landing,
bringing us into the heart of New York City.
The rain had stopped here,
leaving the runways slick,
reflecting the harsh,
bright lights of the airport.
A black town car waited on the tarmac,
its engine idling,
ready to sweep me away to Manhattan,
ready to carry me to the pinnacle of my power.
I stepped off the plane,
the cool morning air hitting my face,
crisp,
refreshing,
a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere of my wedding suite.
Malcolm walked a step behind me,
carrying the briefcases,
carrying the weapons we would use to finalize the slaughter.
We slid into the back of the car,
the heavy doors closing with a solid,
satisfying thud,
shutting out the noise of the world.
The driver pulled away smoothly,
merging onto the highway,
heading toward the towering skyline,
the steel and glass canyons where fortunes were made and destroyed.
I watched the city wake up,
the early commuters,
the delivery trucks,
the endless pulse of a metropolis that cared nothing for broken hearts,
only for power,
only for success.
Preston had always wanted to conquer this city,
always talked about opening a flagship office in Manhattan,
always dreamed of seeing his name in lights.
Now,
his name would only appear in court documents,
in bankruptcy filings,
in the police logs.
I checked my phone,
seeing a dozen missed calls from unknown numbers,
probably his desperate attempts to reach me,
probably his father begging for mercy,
mercy I did not possess.
I blocked the numbers,
one by one,
erasing their digital existence,
just as I had erased their financial existence.
The car glided through the empty streets of lower Manhattan,
pulling up to the massive,
granite facade of the Whitmore building,
a fortress of wealth,
a monument to my father's ruthless brilliance.
I stepped out,
my heels clicking sharply on the pavement,
echoing in the quiet morning,
a sound of authority,
a sound of approaching doom for my enemies.
The security guards opened the heavy glass doors,
nodding respectfully,
their eyes averted,
knowing better than to look the Chairwoman in the eye on a day of war.
We entered the private elevator,
swiping the biometric key,
ascending rapidly to the executive floor,
the heart of the machine.
The doors opened to a silent,
pristine lobby,
marble floors,
mahogany walls,
the smell of expensive leather and polished wood.
I walked into my corner office,
the city spread out below me,
a kingdom waiting for my command.
I sat behind the massive desk,
folding my hands,
ready to receive the board,
ready to explain exactly what happens to those who betray the Whitmore name,
ready to rule,
alone,
May you like
unmatched,
and completely untouchable.
