Chapter Twenty-Seven
Crown
The Founders’ Convocation began at eight.
By eight fifteen, every person Lenora wanted to destroy stood beneath the winter garden’s glass ceiling.
Political families occupied one side of the ballroom. Criminal families occupied the other, as if the difference between them amounted to seating arrangements.
Julian greeted guests from the head table.
My chair.
He had replaced the Devereaux crest with his initials.
That irritated me more than losing the position.
Jayla entered beside me wearing a black gown decorated with hand-painted gold constellations. Evelyn’s silver necklace rested against her throat.
She had refused my grandmother’s engagement ring.
Tonight, she wasn’t pretending to belong to me.
She stood beside me because she chose to.
Everyone noticed.
Julian approached.
“I’m surprised security allowed you inside.”
“This estate belongs to the Devereaux trust,” Asha said. “Your temporary title doesn’t include the authority to remove beneficiaries.”
Julian looked at Jayla.
“And what is she?”
“My guest,” I answered.
“Fiancée? Sister? Archivist? The role seems to change weekly.”
Jayla smiled.
“And you remain unpleasant in every version.”
Julian’s amusement disappeared.
A bell announced the beginning of the shareholder session.
Nia took her seat with Asha. Noelle remained at the hospital with Simone. Micah disappeared into the building’s control room with Jayla.
I wanted to follow.
Instead, I let her perform the role only she could.
Stand beside.
Not in front.
The chairman began the vote concerning Devereaux Maritime.
Julian presented the sale as necessary protection against scandal. He claimed the company could no longer survive under the weight of Victor’s crimes.
“The buyer will absorb all liabilities,” he said.
“And destroy the records,” Asha replied.
“There are no records.”
“Then the buyer won’t mind an independent audit.”
Julian’s expression hardened.
Asha distributed documents proving the Maltese holding company belonged to Lenora.
Several shareholders immediately withdrew support.
Nia stood.
“My vote for Malachi’s suspension was made under coercion. Lenora threatened the life of Rochelle Bennett.”
Julian laughed.
“You expect the board to trust a woman who remained legally dead for seventeen years?”
“No,” Nia said. “I expect them to view the recording.”
A screen displayed footage from the hospital roof. Lenora’s threats played clearly.
The room filled with whispers.
Julian looked toward the exits.
Dorian blocked the nearest one.
“Sit down.”
The lights went out.
Red emergency lighting filled the winter garden.
Steel shutters sealed every door and window.
Guests began shouting.
My phone vibrated.
Micah.
“Lenora took control of the building.”
“Location?”
“Unknown. Jayla and I are locked inside the archive level.”
I moved toward the hallway.
Armed guards appeared along the balconies.
Lenora’s crest filled every screen.
“Welcome,” her voice said, “to the final gathering of New York’s founding thieves.”
People drew weapons.
The guards above aimed downward.
“One gunshot,” Lenora warned, “and every entrance remains sealed while the garden burns.”
A digital timer appeared.
Thirty minutes.
Files began flashing across the monitors.
Payments to judges.
Photographs of officers moving women through private ports.
Contracts signed by wealthy men inside the room.
Panic transformed into violence.
One politician attacked another before Dorian separated them.
Julian disappeared toward the lower corridor.
I followed.
“Crown,” Dorian warned.
“Keep the room controlled.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Jayla.”
The corridor beneath the ballroom led toward my father’s memorial. The stone statue had been moved, revealing a stairwell beneath it.
Julian waited at the bottom holding a gun.
“You should’ve accepted the suspension.”
“You should’ve remained seated.”
He fired.
The bullet struck the wall beside me.
I returned fire, hitting his shoulder.
Julian dropped the weapon and fell against the stairs.
I approached.
“You killed my father,” he spat.
“Victor killed mine first.”
“He was protecting this family.”
“He protected himself.”
“You took everything from us.”
“Your father stole it before either of us was born.”
Julian grabbed for his gun.
I kicked it away.
“I should kill you,” I said.
“You always solve problems that way.”
The accusation sounded too much like Lenora.
Too much like my own fear.
I lowered my weapon.
“No. You’re going to live long enough to watch the truth erase your father’s name.”
Julian laughed.
“Still pretending you’re better than me?”
“No.”
I stepped over him.
“I’m choosing to become better than I was.”
The archive level was sealed by reinforced glass.
Jayla stood inside with Micah, surrounded by screens releasing thousands of records.
She saw me through the barrier.
“Malachi!”
I found the intercom.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. Lenora locked us inside when we tried to separate the files.”
“Can Micah break the system?”
“She removed his access.”
Micah waved from behind the console.
“Nice to see you too.”
The timer showed twenty-one minutes.
“What happens at zero?” I asked.
“The garden’s fuel lines ignite,” Jayla said. “Lenora plans to destroy the physical archive and everyone upstairs.”
“Where is she?”
“Inside the original safe room.”
The red door.
“Can you stop the release?”
“Yes, but I need access from her terminal.”
“I’ll get you inside.”
“Malachi, she wants you there.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t give her exactly what she wants.”
“The alternative is leaving you behind glass.”
Jayla placed her palm against the barrier.
I matched it from the other side.
“You promised to stand beside me,” she said.
“I am.”
“You’re about to walk into a trap alone.”
“I need you to open the archive once I reach the terminal.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“It’s the closest option available.”
Her eyes filled with anger and fear.
“Red door,” I said.
“Don’t use that as goodbye.”
“It isn’t.”
I left my hand against the glass.
“It means I’ll come when you’re afraid.”
“And who comes when you are?”
I looked at her.
“You.”
A section of wall opened behind me.
My mother stood inside the passage.
“I know how to reach Lenora.”
Nia’s face was pale, but her hands remained steady.
“What are you doing down here?”
“Choosing my children.”
“After seventeen years?”
“Yes.”
I hated how badly I still wanted to believe her.
“Lead the way.”
The hidden corridor ended at a painted red door.
Nia placed her hand against it.
“Lenora built Bishop in this room,” she said. “Every secret she collected. Every identity she destroyed.”
“Why stay with her?”
“I believed revenge was the only thing keeping you safe.”
“You watched her become Victor.”
“I know.”
“Did you?”
Tears filled my mother’s eyes.
“I knew before I admitted it.”
The timer reached sixteen minutes.
I opened the red door.
Lenora sat before the master terminal.
Around her, shelves contained photographs of every person she had exposed, blackmailed, rescued, or destroyed.
My father’s image rested beside the controls.
“Hello, Malachi,” she said.
The door locked behind us.
Lenora lifted a gun.
“Now your mother chooses which son survives.”
“There is only one,” Nia replied.
Lenora smiled.
“We’ll see.”