Chapter 3 - Activating Protocol
Without another word, I handed the microphone back to my stunned maid of honor. I pulled my phone from the hidden pocket of my dress, unlocking the screen with a steady thumb. Olivia watched me, her smirk returning, though it looked slightly forced now. "What are you doing? Calling your little nonprofit supervisor?"
"No," I replied.
I scrolled down my contacts list and tapped a number I knew better than my own social security card. Daniel Reeves answered on the second ring, his crisp, authoritative voice cutting through the murmurs of the crowd. "Clara?" "I need the Sterling protocol activated," I said smoothly.
A heavy silence fell over the phone line. It wasn't confusion; it was absolute, instantaneous comprehension. "Full protocol?" Daniel asked. "Yes." Across the courtyard, Ethan staggered backward as if he had been physically struck. Olivia looked between him and me, her brow furrowing. "What is he talking about?" she demanded. Ethan kept his mouth clamped shut, staring at me with horror.
"Freeze every pending transfer within our control," I instructed Daniel, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet terrace. "Notify legal, the board liaison, and all participating lenders. Nothing unverified moves tonight." "Understood," Daniel replied, his tone shifting into battle mode. "What about the asset liquidation framework?" "Hold it in escrow until further notice." "And Clara?" Daniel paused. "Should I release the verified compliance package?" I let my eyes lock onto Ethan’s sweating, pale face. "What time is it?" "Five past five." "Release it at midnight," I ordered. "Let the public see every single transaction, every off-shore account, and every regulatory violation the Sterlings have tried to sweep under the rug." "Understood. Initiating lockdown."
I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my dress. Olivia stared at me, her chest heaving, the haughty mask finally slipping to reveal genuine panic. "What ridiculous performance was that? Who do you think you are?" Ethan rushed forward, grabbing his mother’s arm. "Mom. Stop talking. Just stop talking right now." Olivia blinked, dumbfounded. "What is wrong with you, Ethan? Tell this ungrateful brat to pack her bags and get off our estate!" "She can't," Ethan whispered, his voice trembling so violently that even the guests in the front row could hear it.
Before Olivia could demand an explanation, a low, rumbling drone echoed from the main entrance of the estate. All heads turned toward the wrought-iron gates.
May you like
Headlights swept across the manicured lawns. One by one, five heavy black sedans rolled through the gates in a slow, ominous convoy. They didn't park in the visitor lot; they drove straight up the curved driveway, surrounding the terrace in a silent, suffocating semicircle.
Olivia’s jaw dropped. "Who... who invited them?" Nobody answered. My father wrapped the catering towel tighter around Mom, stepping protectively in front of her. He looked at me, his eyes sharp and analytical. "Clara, what exactly do you do for a living?" I offered him a reassuring smile, though my heart was pounding a thousand miles an hour. "You'll see, Dad."
