The wind rustled softly through the tall trees surrounding the secluded cottage nestled deep in the Catskills, far from the buzz of New York City. A place untouched by time and noise. The safehouse had been built by Elena's late mother—meant as a place of retreat, for emergencies no one ever imagined would come. Now, it served as Elena's quiet fortress, hidden from the chaos of her stolen empire.
Inside, warm sunlight filtered through the wooden blinds, casting soft shadows on the cozy furniture. Stella placed a steaming mug of tea on the small table between them, her brows raised in quiet anticipation.
"Did everything go according to plan?" she asked gently, settling into the armchair across from Elena.
Elena's lips curved into a calm smile. "Yes," she said, her voice steady. "Victor didn't even need much convincing. He wants me—maybe even more than the profit he's set to gain."
Stella raised an eyebrow, her curiosity clear. "And what kind of profit are we talking about?"
Elena took a slow sip of her tea before answering. "If everything plays out the way I mapped it, he stands to gain at least two hundred million dollars in profit once those stocks settle and the deals wrap up."
Stella's eyes widened slightly. "And he still wants you more than all that?"
Elena gave a short, amused chuckle. "He's a complicated man. But yes, that's what he said."
Stella shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "That's amazing. And you're sure the numbers will hold?"
"As long as I guide him step by step," Elena said. "The contracts were structured for a reason. The margin is built in. He'll recover that five hundred million investment—probably even double it—within a year."
The room fell quiet for a moment, only the sound of the wind brushing against the windowpane.
Six months passed quietly at the safehouse. Elena and Stella kept to themselves, rarely stepping outside unless necessary. In that time, just as Elena had predicted, the Moretti Foundation began to crumble. The two companies whose contracts had just expired refused to renew. They rejected the 10% interest hike, and Clifford, as expected, had no idea how to win them back.
One morning, Elena stepped outside onto the small wooden porch, her phone in hand. She stared out at the mist-covered trees for a moment, then dialed Victor.
He answered on the first ring.
"They said no," he said, without waiting for a greeting.
"I figured," Elena replied. "What's your next move?"
"I've already scheduled a meeting with Clifford. He's finally desperate enough to listen."
"Good," she said. "Now we begin the next phase."
As she hung up, a breeze stirred the edge of her shawl. Stella stepped outside beside her, holding a second cup of tea.
"Time to reclaim your throne?" she asked with a smirk.
Elena gave a small nod, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
"Time to make them remember who built the crown in the first place."
Victor Sherlock walked through the grand hallway of the Moretti Foundation's headquarters, his steps calm but firm. The receptionist had sent him straight to the top floor—Clifford's office. No delays, just like Elena said.
She was right again, he thought with a smirk. This part of the plan is unfolding like clockwork.
The large glass doors opened smoothly, revealing a spacious office lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. Clifford rose from behind his sleek, polished desk, clearly surprised but trying to stay composed.
"Well, this is unexpected," Clifford said with a forced smile, sizing Victor up. "What do I owe the pleasure of a visit from Victor Sherlock—the golden boy of New York's number one automobile company? Don't tell me you're struggling to sell your cars."
Victor let out a small chuckle and quickly covered his mouth, amused but trying to stay respectful.
"Sorry," he said, still grinning. "It's just… you're funnier than I thought."
Okay, maybe I should dial it down a bit, he reminded himself. Don't spook the guy. Not yet.
Clifford raised an eyebrow, unsure whether to laugh or feel insulted.
What's he really doing here? he wondered. This kid doesn't show up unless something big's behind it.
Victor leaned back in the chair confidently, legs crossed, tone steady. "Look, I won't waste your time. I'm here with a deal, plain and simple. I want to expand Sherlock Motors across New York—full scale. While doing my research, I came across some… interesting numbers linked to your company."
Clifford's eyes narrowed slightly. So it wasn't a social call. He crossed his arms, now fully tuned in.
"I found out Moretti Foundation sold a large number of electric cars in the past two years," Victor continued, "and also made big shipments of luxury kitchen equipment to Africa. That stood out to me."
Clifford picked up his coffee slowly, still playing it cool.
Damn. That kind of info isn't public. Who fed him that?
Victor studied Clifford's reaction and pressed on.
"So here's my offer. I'm ready to invest five hundred million dollars—into those product stocks. The goal is simple: I want your company to stay ahead of every distributor in the game."
Clifford froze mid-sip, nearly choking. He coughed hard, turning away for a second as the shock hit him.
Five hundred million? He cleared his throat, trying to recover.
Is he bluffing? No... he doesn't look like someone bluffing.
"You're messing with me, right?" Clifford asked, still catching his breath, half-laughing like it was a joke he couldn't believe.
"Nope," Victor said, voice calm and sharp. "I'm serious. If you're in, I can begin payment today."
Stay cool, Vic. Don't rush. Just like Elena said: bait the hook, then reel them in, Victor thought, keeping his face unreadable.
Clifford set his cup down carefully, his hands slightly shaky now. His mind raced through numbers, projections, and what this kind of money could do for the Foundation.
This is insane. No investor walks in like this unless he knows something. What does he want in return?
"Oh… my good heavens," he breathed. "That's huge. Massive. Mr. Sherlock, if you're really serious, we would absolutely agree to any terms."
He reached for a folder nearby, fingers fumbling slightly.
"For an investment that size," he added, "the board is prepared to offer you twenty percent shares in the Moretti Foundation. No hesitation."
Victor's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile.
Elena, you genius… he thought.
"Perfect," he said smoothly. "Then let's talk terms."
Clifford leaned forward, his tone serious now. "Alright, Victor. What are your terms?"
Without a word, Victor reached into his briefcase and pulled out a slim folder, placing it gently on the desk. Clifford opened it, skimming through the documents. A slow smile formed on his face.
"These are… very well thought out," he said with a nod. "We'll need about three days to review everything. Expect a call soon."
Victor rose to his feet, extending a firm handshake. "I'll be waiting."
As soon as Victor stepped out of the building and slid into the backseat of his car, he pulled out his phone and dialed Elena.
"It's done," he said the moment she picked up. "Just like you predicted. They've promised to call in three days to negotiate the terms in the files you prepared."
"Great," Elena replied calmly.
Victor's voice dropped, now a little playful. "You know what comes next, right? Come to my villa tonight. I'll be waiting."
Elena's lips curved into a soft smile. "No worries. I'll be there." She ended the call.
From the far side of the living room, Stella peeked over the rim of her teacup. "How's the deal going?"
"Perfect," Elena said, sitting back down on the couch.
Stella raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I guess Victor's asking for his reward already?"
Elena let out a quiet laugh, her hand gently resting on her now-visible baby bump. "Yep."
Stella chuckled. "Well, he's about to get the biggest surprise of his life."
Elena rubbed her stomach in slow, thoughtful circles. "I can't wait to see his face when he sees me like this."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Stella teased. "Some men don't care—as long as they get what they want."
Elena shook her head. "Not Victor. I know him. The moment he sees this belly, all that lust will disappear."
There was a pause, then Stella asked more seriously, "What about that strange guy you noticed? The one from the club?"
"Yeah… I almost forgot." Elena's brows furrowed slightly. "I spotted him tailing me again, but I managed to lose him on the highway. If my hunch is right, he might be one of Chloe or Charles' spies."
Stella's expression turned tense. "That's dangerous."
Elena gave a small nod, then stood up. "Don't worry. I know how to move in this city without being seen."
Stella watched as Elena walked toward her room, a determined glint in her eyes.
"Now," Elena said with a faint smile, "let's go pay the playboy a visit."