Chapter 17 - The Shadow Over Cap Ferrat
The wind off the open sea whipped my hair as I stood beside Julian on the bridge of the *Vanguard*. The monitors cast an eerie green and amber glow over his chiseled jawline. On the main radar screen, a solitary red blip moved rapidly past the silhouette of Cap Ferrat.
"They're accelerating," Marcus reported from the tactical console. "They know we’ve cleared the harbor. Eleanor isn’t taking any chances."
"She’s terrified," I said, watching the distance close meter by meter. "Eleanor has spent her whole life pulling strings from the shadows, hiding behind her family pedigree and my father’s silence. For the first time, she is exposed."
"And Olivia is cornered," Julian added, his hand coming to rest protectively at the small of my back. "A cornered animal is unpredictable. When we breach that vessel, stay behind me, Grace. I brought you here to reclaim your birthright, not to risk your life."
"I am not hiding in the shadows, Julian," I said, turning to look into his intense, obsidian eyes. "When Olivia smashed that vase against my skull, Ethan told her I was weak. He told her I would roll over, sign the divorce papers, and rot away in some sanitarium. I need her to look into my eyes and see that the woman she tried to destroy is the one taking everything from her."
Julian’s gaze softened with fierce admiration. He reached up, his fingers lightly brushing against my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw with breathtaking tenderness. "You are stronger than any of them, my lioness. And tonight, Manhattan’s wolves will bleed in Mediterranean water."
The radio suddenly hissed with static. A sharp, mocking voice pierced the bridge speakers.
"Julian Vance. I should have known you couldn't resist playing the white knight for my pathetic stepdaughter."
Eleanor Carter’s voice was smooth, dripping with aristocratic disdain, yet beneath the poise was a faint tremor of desperation.
Julian tapped the broadcast key, his voice dropping into that chilling, lethal cadence that terrified boardrooms across the globe. "Eleanor. Cut your engines and step away from the helm. If you surrender the journal now, you might still live to see a prison cell."
A high-pitched, venomous laugh cut over the frequency. Olivia.
"Grace, you miserable bitch!" Olivia shrieked. "You think you've won because Ethan is in chains? Ethan was a pawn! He was nothing! You can take Carter Global’s stocks, but this journal is worth fifty billion euros! We’re ten minutes from establishing the automated maritime registry with our offshore buyers! Once that signal transmits, your father's legacy is sold to the highest bidder, and you will be left with dust!"
"You always were too loud, Olivia," I spoke into the microphone, my voice crystal clear, completely devoid of fear. "You took my husband, and he proved to be worthless. You took my home, and I burned it down around you. Now you’re holding my father’s book with shaking hands, praying that fifty billion euros can save you from me."
"Kill them!" Olivia screamed over the radio, not to us, but to someone on her deck. "Shoot them out of the water!"
The radio abruptly went dead as the red blip on our screen veered violently to the west.
"Target is engaging defensive maneuvers!" Marcus barked. "They have weapon emplacements on the stern—high-caliber rifles!"
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"Kill the deck lights," Julian commanded instantly. "Engage water-cannon suppression and prepare the boarding ramp. Grace, get into tactical gear. We’re taking that ship."
***