The Lion's Den(118)

“The hell you are,” John snaps.

Eric shrugs. “I think you’ll change your tone when you see the mountain of evidence I’ve collected against you.”

“I don’t have to remind you what happened last time you tried to collect evidence,” John warns.

Eric taps away at his phone. “But this time is different. Because this time”—he meets his father’s stare—“I’m blackmailing you.” He directs his attention to Grace and nods at the television. “S’il te pla?t allume ?a.”

She points a remote, and the TV comes to life with a chime.

“The input for screen casting, please.”

Grace selects one of the HDMI ports, and a spinning wheel comes up, then two rows of video pop onto the screen. Eric uses his phone to scroll down, revealing rows upon rows of videos. “Vinny tells me there was some confusion over the death of one of the girls on the boat.”

He selects one of the boxes and presses play. The security footage is surprisingly clear despite it being dark out, and shows Amythest and Summer on the upper deck directly under the camera, engaged in a catfight as the other girls look on.

“…keep your nasty little hands off him,” Summer warns.

“Make me,” Amythest taunts. “What do you think he would do if I told him you killed your ex?”

“What the—I don’t know what she’s told you, but—you wouldn’t dare, you little bitch.” Summer reaches out and grabs Amythest by the back of her hair, yanking her head back. Amythest brings a knee up, connecting with her groin. “Whore!” Summer slaps her across the face. Amythest tries to push her away, slipping to her knees in the process.

“Summer, leave it!” Rhonda shouts. “It’s not worth it.”

“Shut up, Rhonda,” Summer snaps.



I can hardly watch, knowing what’s coming for my violet-eyed friend.

Amythest is on her feet again, backing away as Summer stalks her toward the railing. Amythest says something unintelligible, and suddenly the two of them are a blur of hands and hair and feet, kicking and slapping and pulling. Amythest is scrappy, but Summer is angrier, with a significant height advantage. Again she grabs Amythest by the back of the hair, this time slamming her head into the railing. Nose bleeding, Amythest flails. With one hand around her throat, Summer pushes her up and back. And then, in a flash, Amythest is tumbling backward over the railing. Her bloodcurdling scream stops short with a sickening crack and a nearly imperceptible splash.



My hand flies to my mouth as I choke back a sob, recognizing the scream that’s been echoing in my head for twenty-four hours. Eric strokes my arm.

Summer spins to face the other girls, huddled at the edge of the camera’s eye. “She fell,” she spits. “She was drunk and she fell.”



I blink away tears as Eric stops the video. The room is still, all the oxygen sucked out of it. “Any questions?” he asks. No one speaks. “Good. Let’s move on.”

John scowls at Summer, shrunken into the couch as though hoping it might swallow her, the corners of her mouth downturned. He doesn’t seem surprised—surely he’d seen the video on the boat before it was wiped—but infuriated that her stupidity is now affecting him in a way he can’t control.

Eric hovers over his father, arms crossed. “My hackers have thoroughly swept your servers; Vinny can confirm—I have all the details on every shady thing you’ve done in the past ten years, not to mention the security footage from the boat and the additional videos from the camera watch Belle was wearing.” He looks to me, his gaze softening, and I smile. “Insider trading, tax evasion, bribery, murder—just to name a few.”

Vinny extends a thick manila envelope to John, who rips it from his hand, refusing to make eye contact with his former goon. “Take a look,” Eric suggests. “Though that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

John tears open the envelope and thumbs through the contents. “What do you want?” he growls.

“I told you. Lionshare,” Eric says evenly. “You’ll resign, effective immediately, or everything I have on you becomes public. So public that there’ll be no one to bribe.”

“You’re a fool,” John chides. “That’ll sink the company.”

Eric holds his hands up. “No fucks to give.”

John rises to his feet. “You ungrateful bastard—”

Eric laughs. “Exactly.”

“After everything your grandfather sacrificed to start this company—” John turns to his mother. “Mother, you’re not going to agree to this, are you?”

“Tais-toi.” Her withering gaze sears holes into John. “You care about rien que de l’argent.” She rubs her fingers together for emphasis. “Money. For years, you are un étranger. Je pense, ‘He is selfish. He is not good son or good father, but he has no good example in his father, alors, he is not a bad man.’ Mais when I learn what you have done to your own blood, to the people who work for you, I know you are no longer mon fils.”

“Mother—”

But she only glares at him, tight-lipped.

“This past week,” Eric says to John, “at the—shall we say—privileged advice of one of your Chinese partners, you adjusted your position on steel and made twenty-three million, give or take. Now, I know that’s not a lot to you, but it’s damn sure enough for the SEC to be interested, should they ever find out. That money’s now Belle’s.” I inhale so quickly I cough, shocked. Eric glances at me. “Make that thirty.”