Chapter 2 - The Seventy-Two Hour Countdown
Grant Carter woke up at seven in the morning with a throbbing headache born of too much bourbon and too much praise.
He rolled over in the massive king-sized bed, extending an arm toward Claire's side. His hand struck cold, unruffled linen.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Claire?"
The penthouse was dead silent.
Grant frowned, swinging his legs out of bed. He felt a sting of irritation. After her melodramatic exit from the gala last night, he had expected her to be waiting in the kitchen, sitting over her tea, waiting for him to offer a half-hearted apology so they could return to their normal routine.
Instead, the apartment was empty.
He walked into the bathroom. Her toothbrush was gone from the marble holder. In the walk-in closet, a single gap sat among her shoes.
Then he saw it.
Sitting on the obsidian nightstand beside his charging phone was her diamond engagement ring and her platinum wedding band. Beside them sat a single printed sheet of paper from a legal pad.
Grant picked it up. Written in Claire's neat, precise handwriting were three words:
Contract fulfilled. Goodbye.
Grant stared at the note, his jaw tightening into a hard line. "Unbelievable," he muttered to himself, tossing the paper back onto the table. "Seven months pregnant and she's playing games."
His phone rang. It was Vanessa Rowe.
"Grant," Vanessa said, her voice bright and efficient. "The Morning Journal just ran the front-page piece on your award. Stock futures for Carter Meridian are up four percent before the bell. But we have a minor issue."
"What issue?" Grant asked, walking toward the espresso machine.
"The board wants you and Claire to do a live breakfast interview with CNBC at ten. They want the 'power couple behind the logistics revolution' narrative. Where is she?"
Grant poured his coffee, his eyes flicking back to the gold band sitting on the table. "She isn't feeling well. Pregnancy complications. Cancel the interview."
Vanessa paused over the line. "Is everything okay? Last night... she seemed quite upset after what you said."
Grant scoffed, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Claire is emotional right now, Vanessa. She's tired, her ankles are swollen, and she feels insecure because she isn't involved in the high-level operations anymore. She packed a bag and left for a hotel to try and teach me a lesson. She'll be back by dinner."
"If you're sure," Vanessa said softly. "Oh, by the way, the IT team sent a notification regarding the server cluster. Nothing serious, just a routine ping from the primary routing database. They said the administrative encryption keys need their monthly refresh."
"Tell them to run the standard protocol," Grant said indifferently, taking a sip of coffee. "Claire usually handles the master password logs, but it's automated anyway. I have a meeting with the port authorities at nine."
"Right away, CEO," Vanessa purred.
Across the Atlantic Ocean, thirty-thousand feet above the clouds, Claire sat in the private cabin of a Gulfstream G650.
Her laptop was open on the wooden tray in front of her. On the screen was a live monitoring dashboard showing Carter Meridian's network infrastructure. Red warnings were already blinking across the secondary nodes, though Grant's engineers were far too incompetent to realize what they meant.
Sterling walked into the cabin, placing a plate of sliced fruit and warm porridge in front of her.
"Your grandfather is waiting at the clinic in Geneva, Miss Vance," Sterling said. "He has instructed his legal team to initiate the formal recognition of your inheritance the moment your plane touches down."
"How much of Vance-Atherton do I legally control upon arrival?" Claire asked, her eyes never leaving her laptop screen.
"Fifty-two percent of voting shares, alongside direct ownership of the European deep-water terminals in Rotterdam, Hamburg, and Antwerp," Sterling replied smoothly. "In addition, you hold the master maritime licenses for thirty percent of the cargo ships currently carrying Grant Carter's freight across the Atlantic."
Claire leaned back against the plush leather seat, stroging her rounded belly.
"Grant told his investors last night that I was just an organized filing system," Claire said softly, a dark, quiet humor touching her lips. "He told Vanessa that my chapter in his life was over."
"A profoundly foolish statement from a man whose entire supply chain relies on your family's ocean vessels," Sterling observed politely.
May you like
Claire looked at her silver bird bracelet, her expression turning as cold as the high-altitude air outside the window.
"He built his empire on my silence, Sterling," Claire said, closing the laptop with a decisive snap. "Now let's see how well he runs it when I start to speak."
