Chapter 6 - The Ambush at the St. Regis Suite
At 9:00 AM, the presidential suite of the St. Regis Manhattan overlooked Central Park in the crisp autumn sunshine.
Sixty-two-year-old Richard Harcourt sat on a velvet armchair in a bespoke pinstripe suit, cutting into a plate of eggs Benedict, smiling with smooth, predatory confidence. Beside him sat Bradley Vance, the former Halcyon executive.
“Victoria, darling,” Richard beamed, gesturing to a seat. “We received notice that some junior analyst in strategy was flagging our fee schedules. I assume you’ve already smoothed over that nonsense before today’s ratification vote?”
The suite doors opened.
Walking in beside Victoria Steele was Charlotte Morgan, carrying an ultra-thin encrypted tablet.
Bradley Vance frowned, setting his crystal water glass down. “Victoria, who is this girl? We asked for a private executive briefing.”
“This is Charlotte Morgan,” Victoria announced, her voice ringing with razor-sharp clarity. “Senior Operations Strategy Associate. And the person who discovered that you’ve been forging my cryptographic key to siphon forty-eight million dollars through Aegis Horizon LLC.”
Richard’s fork froze mid-air.
Bradley leaped to his feet, knocking his napkin onto the floor. “Victoria, have you lost your mind?! You come into my suite making wild criminal accusations based on the guesswork of a twenty-five-year-old nobody?!”
Charlotte tapped her tablet, connecting it to the suite’s large wall display.
The screen illuminated with certified bank disclosures, IP tracking logs from Bradley’s personal router, and recorded communications intercepted through Halcyon’s compliance gateway.
“My name is Charlotte Morgan,” Charlotte said calmly, stepping forward until she stood three feet from Richard Harcourt. “And before two o'clock today, the United States Department of Justice will unseal asset freezing orders on every dollar in your Grand Cayman accounts.”
Richard’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of crimson. He glared at Charlotte with venomous arrogance. “You little brat… do you have any idea who I play golf with? I will have Eleanor Morgan throw you out of Halcyon before noon!”
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Charlotte looked him dead in the eye, a faint, razor-sharp smile touching her lips.
“You’re welcome to call the chairwoman, Mr. Harcourt,” Charlotte replied softly. “She’s having breakfast on the 50th floor. And she’s already reading the audit.”
