A Guest Poured Red Wine On Me And Claimed Her Fiancé Ran My Resort, So I Called Him Down—But His Ring Exposed The Family Betrayal Hidden In My Grandfather’s Empire...

The climb up the dumbwaiter shaft was agonizing. The space was incredibly tight, smelling of dust and old grease. My muscles burned, and my hands were scraped raw by the rusted iron cables, but the burning rage in my chest fueled my ascent.

Forty minutes later, I pushed open the small wooden hatch and tumbled onto the pristine marble floor of the penthouse kitchen.

The suite was silent. The Vanguard Group executives must have been sleeping in the master bedrooms. I crept through the massive, luxurious living space, the moonlight illuminating the custom Italian furniture and the grand piano my grandfather used to play.

I found what I was looking for on the massive oak dining table.

Thomas had left his leather briefcase there, confident in his absolute control over the property. I slipped my grandfather’s silver pocket knife from my boot and expertly picked the cheap brass locks on the briefcase.

Inside were the final acquisition contracts, ready for signatures at the breakfast gala. But tucked beneath them was a red manila folder. I opened it. It was the "Burn Book"—Thomas’s meticulous, physical ledger of every illegal wire transfer, every bribe paid to the board of directors, and the extortion material he held on Julian.

He had brought it to Aspen to gloat, to hold it over the heads of anyone who dared question his authority during the transition.

I took the red folder, tucked it into my jacket, and pulled out my burner phone. Up here, I had full cell service.

I dialed a number I hadn't called in three years. It rang twice before a deep, sleep-gravelly voice answered.

“It’s 5:00 AM, Elena. Unless the stock market is literally on fire, this better be a butt-dial.”

“Liam,” I said, a wave of relief washing over me. Liam Cross was a ruthless corporate attorney, a former rival, and the only man in New York I trusted with my life. “I need you to charter a jet to Aspen immediately. And bring the federal marshals.”