"I'm not a delivery," she said. "I'm the new vice president of international strategy. Call Mr. Thorne."
The guard smirked. "Yeah, right. And I'm the King of England."
The elevator opened behind him. Julian stormed into the lobby. He looked as if he had not slept. His suit was fresh, but his eyes were bloodshot.
"She's with me," Julian barked at the guard. "Let her through."
The guard jumped back. "Yes, Mr. Thorne. Sorry, sir."
They rode the elevator to the penthouse office. Manhattan spread out below like a model city, but the mood inside was grim.
"Did you find anything?" Julian asked the moment the doors closed.
"Better," Annie said.
She pulled a folder from her bag. She had printed Silas's findings at an all-night cafe.
"Rio Verde Holdings isn't owned by von Amsel," she said.
Julian frowned. "Then who owns it?"
"It's owned by a blind trust in the Cayman Islands. Silas traced the status-report routing. The reports aren't going to Munich."
"Where are they going?"
"Tokyo."
Julian stopped walking. "Yamamoto?"
"No. Yamamoto is being played too. The reports are going to a private server tied to Saito Heavy Industries."
Julian stared at her. "Saito? That's Yamamoto's biggest rival. They've been trying to take his company for years."
"Exactly. Here's the play. Saito planted the toxic-debt shell company. Marcus helped slip it into the contract. When you bought the company, the debt would trigger a default. Thorne Capital would crash.
The deal would collapse. In the chaos, Saito would move against Yamamoto's company at a fraction of its value. You were just the device they planned to blow up in the middle."
Julian sank onto his leather sofa. "My God. It's a corporate assassination."
"And Marcus was the trigger man," she added.
"So what do we do? If I tell Yamamoto, he might not believe me. He might think I'm trying to escape the deal."
"We don't tell him," she said, a dangerous smile forming. "We show him."
"How?"
"Tonight is the closing gala. Everyone will be there. Von Amsel, Yamamoto, and I would bet a representative from Saito will be there watching. We walk into that gala and expose the trap in front of all of them."
Julian looked at her differently then. The expression was no longer mere suspicion. It was genuine, unsettled respect.
"You really are your father's daughter," he whispered.
"No," she said, straightening her jacket. "My father was a diplomat. He believed in peace. I believe in winning. Now get me a secure line to Tokyo. I need to practice my Japanese insults."
The Plaza Hotel's Grand Ballroom was a sea of black ties, diamonds, and deceit. The Aurora Gala was supposed to celebrate the merger. Annie knew it was really a crime scene waiting to happen.
She was not wearing her apron anymore. At four that afternoon, Julian had sent a stylist to the office. She tried to refuse, insisting her gray suit was fine, but Julian was adamant.
"You are my weapon, Annie," he had said while looking at the skyline. "You don't bring a knife to a gunfight, and you don't wear polyester to a billionaire's funeral."
Now she stood at the top of the velvet staircase in a floor-length gown of midnight-blue silk, structured and sharp. Her hair was pulled back in a severe, elegant style. She looked like money. She looked like power.
Julian stood beside her, nervous enough that he kept touching the cuff of his jacket where he had hidden the flash drive containing Silas's evidence.
"Breathe, Julian," she whispered without moving her lips.
"I'm breathing," he muttered. "I just see Marcus down there, and he's laughing."
Annie looked toward the ice sculpture. Marcus was holding court near it, clinking glasses with a sharp-featured Japanese man in a gray suit who was smiling a little too widely.
"That's him," she said. "The man with Marcus. That's the Saito representative."
Julian stiffened. "How do you know?"
"Body language. He's standing with his feet toward the exit, but his attention is on Yamamoto across the room. He's waiting for the ceremonial signing, the moment the default mechanism becomes impossible to hide."
"Who is he?"
"I don't know yet. But we're about to find out."
They descended the stairs. The room turned toward them. People whispered. Everyone knew Julian Thorne, the boy wonder of Wall Street, but almost nobody knew the woman on his arm. Annie heard snippets of French and Italian as they passed. She ignored them and walked straight toward the VIP circle where Heinrich von Amsel and Kenji Yamamoto were waiting.
When von Amsel saw her, his eyebrows rose. "Mr. Thorne. Is that the waitress?"
Annie smiled and extended her hand. "Good evening, Herr von Amsel. I hope the stock market was kind to you today."
He chuckled and kissed her hand. "Dangerous. A woman who remembers the markets and speaks the language. Thorne, you are a lucky man."
"I am," Julian said, his voice steady. "Gentlemen, before the speeches begin, Annie and I need to speak with you privately in the library."
Marcus appeared as if summoned by the word private. "Now, now, Julian," he said, smiling while his eyes darted toward Annie with pure malice. "No need for secret meetings. We're all friends here, and Mr. Katsumi Saito has joined us to congratulate Mr. Yamamoto."
The man in the gray suit stepped forward. "A pleasure. Katsumi Saito, senior vice president of Saito Heavy Industries. We are keen observers of this deal."
The air pressure seemed to change. Yamamoto looked at Saito coldly. They were rivals.
"Saito-san," Yamamoto said, bowing barely an inch.
It was a deliberate insult.
"We simply want to ensure stability in the market," Saito said smoothly. "Rumors of debt can be so damaging."