The directors held their breath, expecting a storm of rage.
Instead, Eva let out a soft, melodic hum.
She picked up a blue pen and twirled it between her fingers.
A slow, satisfied smirk spread across her face, not one of anger, but of a predator who had just seen the prey walk exactly where she wanted.
“Good,” she whispered, her eyes shining with a chilling light.
“Fear is only effective when the victim knows exactly whose hand is around their throat. If Charles stayed in the dark, he would have been confused. Now, he’ll be desperate.”
She walked toward the door, stopping only to look back at the trembling directors who remained.
“The rest of you have until dawn to sign over your proxies with Mr. Edwards,” she said casually.
“If you do, you walk away with your interests and also pensions. If you don’t… well, ask Mr. Epstein how his evening is going.”
The company generally had six directors but two sold their shares to Eva Hudson.
And now, they were only three .
Without Mr Epstein.
Eva wasn’t interested in the company, but the urge to punish all the directors, being, when Mr Epstein misbehaved with her, Mr Jones Weather, called her a slut, a whore, and ordered the guards to throw her out.
While Jonathan Smith brought up the idea of sending her to jail for deformation of character.
Only one person was innocent of all the board director, and that’s Mr Marcelo Garcia.
As she stepped into the hallway, she felt a rush of cold adrenaline.
The two year wait was over.
Charles would come to her, and for the first time in his life, he will come as a beggar, even if he didn’t know it yet.
“Let’s go downstairs,” Eva said to her guards.
“I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he realizes the ‘random slut’ from the reception desk is the woman holding his entire life in her hands.”
Well, she had two suspicions, either, Charles would come under the orders of his mother, or Ms Isabella will deal with the situation her self.
So she has to be prepared for one of those.
Back at the Isabella mansion, the air was thick with the scent of those black roses. New chapters come out on g.com first.
While Charles was racing toward a trap, Ms. Isabella was not panicking—she was calculating.
She stood in her private study, the door locked.
She didn’t look like a worried mother anymore; she looked like a general preparing a scorched-earth policy.
She knew better than anyone that if Eva Hudson was back, the “truth” they had buried since was at risk of clawing its way out, and that would destroy both their repetition and ambitions.
.
She picked up a vintage rotary phone—a line that wasn’t registered to the house—and dialed a number that belonged to some of the worse assassins called the black tigers.
“It’s Isabella,” she said, her voice devoid of any warmth.
“The Eva girl is back. Terminate her asap!”
A gravelly voice responded on the other end.
“Didn’t you take care of her two month ago?”
“Mistakes were made,” Isabella snapped, her eyes landing on the broken locket Charles had left on the table.
“But I won’t let her dismantle my family. She has money, she may now have influence, but shes driven by vergence.”
She opened a hidden wall safe and pulled out a small, leather-bound ledger—the real records of the agreement between Alphab and Isabella Hudson was filled there.
If Eva ever got her hands on this, the Hudsons wouldn’t just be bankrupt, they’d be in orange jumpsuits for decades….
“I need a ‘permanent’ solution,” Isabella whispered.
“She’s at A&D now. I want your men there. I don’t want any mistakes again. I want an ending.”
The voice on the phone went cold.
“It’ll cost triple.
She’s high-profile now.”
“Pay whatever is necessary,” Isabella hissed.
“Empty the offshore accounts. Just make sure that by tomorrow morning, the name Eva Hudson is nothing more .”
She hung up the phone and looked at her reflection in the dark window.
She had sacrificed everything to build this empire, and she wasn’t about to let a “Eva” take it down..
The glitzy, blue-glass exterior of the skyscraper looked like a beacon of success, but in the shadows of the parking garage across the street, three figures moved with a swift precision.
“Isabella wants it clean, but she wants it done tonight,” he whispered into his comms.
“The target must be at the upper floor. We move through the ventilation shafts from the sub-level.”
Inside the building’s security room, the monitors began to flicker.
One by one, the feeds for the back stairwell and the basement service entrance went to static.
Eva’s elite guards, usually hyper-aware, were currently distracted.
The Vulture dropped from a ceiling grate into a service hallway just fifty feet from the main lobby.
He signaled his team.
They weren’t there for the money or the company shares, they were there for the life of the woman who has become a nemeses to the Hudsons.
.
“Visual on the target,” a voice crackled in his ear.
“She’s standing near the elevators.”
The Vulture raised his weapon, aiming through a gap in the heavy velvet curtains that lined the window at the side entrance.
He lined up the red dot of his laser sight, the light dancing dangerously close to Eva’s forehead.
.
But as his finger tightened on the trigger, he noticed something strange.
Eva wasn’t looking at the elevator.
She was looking directly at the curtain where he was hiding.
She tilted her head, a ghost of a smile appearing on her face.
She didn’t look like a victim; she looked like she was waiting for them, too.
Suddenly, the lights didn’t just dim—they went pitch black, after all it was already dusk.
“Contact lost! I can’t see her!” the sniper hissed.
From the darkness of the hallway, Eva’s voice rang out, amplified by the building’s PA system, sounding calm and terrifyingly close.
“Did you really think I’d come back to this city without knowing exactly who Isabella would call, The vulture?”