The hour before the Gala was a blur of frantic activity. William was in the bedroom, fixing his cufflinks with hands that were steady for the first time in days. He had made his peace with the war.
Victoria’s phone buzzed. She was in the dressing room, staring at herself in the mirror.
She opened the secure app. A single file attachment appeared from Dominic.
*Subject: The Caymans Ledger.*
*Message: The encryption key is your birthdate. Once you use this, the war is over, but my family is finished. I am officially the enemy of the state. Make it count, Victoria.*
Victoria downloaded the file. She scrolled through the first few pages–illegal wire transfers, bribed regulators, laundered money from hostile takeovers. It was a smoking gun the size of a cannon.
She forwarded the file to William’s secure cloud and deleted the message.
“Victoria?” William called out. “The car is here.”
She walked out. She was wearing a gown of white silk and gold structured mesh–armor disguised as fashion. She looked every inch the Queen of the board.
“I have it,” she whispered, taking his hand.
William squeezed her fingers. “Then let’s go end this.”