Chapter 6 - The Tiger's Den
Elena’s knuckles turned white around the glass of water. Diego’s threat struck the deepest nerve she had. For years, she had quietly tended to her mother’s modest, unkempt grave on the outskirts of the city, scraping together what little allowance Diego gave her to buy fresh lilies.
Arthur caught sight of the message. The gentle demeanor he wore in front of his daughter vanished, replaced instantly by an aura of terrifying menace. He gestured to his head of security.
"Send a division of guards to St. Jude’s Cemetery immediately," Arthur commanded, his tone dropping below freezing. "If Diego Vance or any of his associates steps within five hundred yards of that resting place, snap their limbs."
"Yes, Mr. Sterling," the security chief answered, bowing slightly before exiting the room.
"Do not let his words rattle you, Elena," Arthur said, turning back to her with unwavering calm. "The wounded hound barks loudest before it is cornered. He knows something is terribly wrong, but his arrogance prevents him from seeing the cliff he is about to step off."
Over the next twenty-four hours, the best stylists, dermatologists, and tailors in the nation filled the hospital suite. The purple bruises on Elena's collarbone and wrists were treated with high-grade regenerative creams, while world-renowned jewelers brought velvet trays of diamonds, rubies, and emeralds.
Yet, Elena chose none of the ostentatious gems. She selected only a simple, exquisite necklace containing a tear-shaped black diamond—a stone known throughout high society as the "Crown of the North," a signature heirloom of the Sterling family.
Meanwhile, news broke across the business tabloids that Vance Industries’ primary lender had called in all existing lines of credit. Wall Street was in an uproar; panic selling dropped Vance stock by seventeen percent in a single morning.
Diego and Victoria spent the entire day frantically trying to reach the mystery lender's representatives, completely unaware of the identity behind the corporate veil. To ease investor panic, they doubled down on their annual gala, declaring to the press that an "international strategic investor" was set to announce a monumental partnership that very night.
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"They think a miracle is coming," Elena remarked, looking at the glowing television screen while a stylist pinned her deep navy silk gown.
Arthur stood beside her, adjusting his tuxedo cuffs. "A miracle is indeed arriving, Elena. But for them, it carries a scythe."
