Chapter 8 - A Call From The Grave
The sound of his voice sent an electric jolt down Sofia’s spine, but her hands remained steady on the console. Hector lunged to cut the feed, but Sofia raised a hand, stopping him.
""You always were careless, Julian,"" Sofia said calmly into the microphone. ""You should have checked my pulse.""
A long silence hung over the line, followed by the soft, chilling chuckle she had endured for three years. ""I must admit, surviving a four-hundred-foot drop into the Pacific is theatrical, even for you. But you've made a tactical error, sweetheart. You think Hector can protect you? You think your father's dead name carries weight?""
""I don't need protection,"" she said. ""I am calling to give you an ultimatum.""
Julian laughed out loud, the arrogance dripping from every syllable. ""An ultimatum? You are a fugitive hiding in a hole in the dirt. In forty-eight hours, the Moretti syndicate closes our deal. The board has already confirmed your 'tragic accidental death' at sea. The condolences are already pouring in.""
""Check your primary operating account in the Caymans, Julian,"" Sofia replied softly.
The line went dead silent. Over the satellite link, she could hear the frantic clicking of a keyboard on his end, followed by the muffled, panicked murmurs of his financial advisors.
""What did you do?"" Julian’s voice dropped all pretense of charm, turning into a venomous hiss. ""What did you do with the escrow reserves?!""
""That was two hundred million dollars of Moretti's advance collateral,"" Sofia whispered. ""And I just transferred every cent into a blind trust under my unborn child's name. You have nothing to show them, Julian. You are a pauper in an expensive suit.""
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""I will tear that mountain apart!"" Julian screamed, his composure shattering completely. ""I know your coordinates!""
""Come then,"" Sofia said, and smashed the monitor with the butt of her pistol.
