Chapter 8
Carter Hayes shoved a security guard away. He smoothed his hair, trying to regain some shred of dignity.
He locked eyes with Janey.
"Janey," he pleaded, stepping toward her. "Tell them. Tell them this is a misunderstanding. We... we have a history."
He was playing the emotional card. The one that had worked for years.
Janey stepped out from behind Austin. She stopped three feet from Carter.
"History?" she asked. Her voice wasn't weak anymore. "You mean when you used my keycard to steal the Roy prototypes? Or when you and Doria laughed about my 'daddy issues' in bed?"
Carter paled. "Don't be crazy. I have texts-"
"And I have memories," Janey interrupted. She turned to Austin's CFO, who was standing nearby, looking grim. "Mr. Henderson, check the logs for Walton Corp's offshore accounts. Look for a short sale initiated three days ago against Roy Group, funneled through a shell company called Vanguard Tech. The transaction ID will be linked to an encrypted IP address that bounces through three servers before terminating in the Cayman Islands. But the initial authorization came from a terminal inside Hayes Industries headquarters."
Carter's knees buckled.
"The SEC might take months to unravel that," Janey said coolly, her eyes fixed on Carter. "But your board won't."
"How..." Carter whispered. "How did you know that?"
"I have my ways," Janey said. "And as of five minutes ago, when my husband crushed your short, he owns your debt."
Carter looked like he was going to vomit. Federal prison wasn't a possibility anymore; it was a certainty.
"And regarding our 'history'," Janey continued, her voice hardening into diamond. "If I ever hear my name in your mouth again..."
She turned to Austin.
"My husband will sue you until you are living in a cardboard box."
My husband.
Austin raised an eyebrow. He liked the sound of that.
He stepped forward, aligning himself with her. A united front.
"You heard Mrs. Walton," Austin said. "Get off my property, Hayes. Before I have you removed in pieces."
Carter looked at the two of them. The cripple and the bastard daughter. They looked like royalty.
He spat on the floor, glared at Janey, and turned around. The security guards grabbed his arms and marched him out.
A slow clap started. Then another.
The guests were cheering. They loved a villain, but they loved a winner more.
Janey turned to Austin. Her shoulders slumped slightly. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her trembling.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For playing along."
Austin looked at her. He took a glass of water from a passing tray and handed it to her.
"You are ruthless, Janey," he said. It was a compliment.
"Survival requires it," she replied, taking the glass.
Their fingers brushed. A spark, not of romance, but of recognition.
Suddenly, the main doors banged open again.
A rough, booming voice echoed through the hall.
"Where is she? Where is my granddaughter?"
An old man in a cheap suit, smelling of tobacco and machine oil, strode in. Behind him were four burly men in union jackets.
Arthur Vance. The head of the Steelworkers Union.
And Janey's grandfather.
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