Two floors down, in the hospital cafeteria, Seraphina Rivers checked her watch. She had demanded $10 million for the stolen medical records. She expected a wire transfer; instead, she got a text to meet here.
Victoria Vance walked in. She was still wearing the evening gown from the Gala, though now it was wrinkled. She carried a small envelope.
“I assume that’s the check,” Seraphina smirked, reaching out.
Victoria dropped the envelope on the table. It slid across the Formica. “It’s a plane ticket, Seraphina. Economy class. To a non-extradition country.”
Seraphina’s smile faltered. “You’re bluffing. I have the records. I’ll tell the board Malcolm is dying.”
“The whole world saw Malcolm collapse on stage last night,” Victoria said coldly, leaning in. “The stock has already adjusted. The board knows he’s sick. Your ‘secret’ is worthless news.”
Seraphina opened her mouth, but Victoria cut her off.
“You have two choices. You take that ticket and disappear, or I call the police right now and report you for extortion, theft of medical property, and corporate espionage. And this time, there won’t be an early release for overcrowding.”
Seraphina looked at the ticket, then at the steel in Victoria’s eyes. She realized the game was over. She snatched the envelope, stood up, and walked out of the hospital, fleeing the Croft orbit for the final time.