The torrential rain lashing against the floor-to-ceiling glass of Blackburn Tower did not wash away the blood on the floor of the financial markets; it merely blurred the lines between the predators and the prey. By 4:00 PM, the closing bell of the New York Stock Exchange had echoed through the canyons of Wall Street, and with it came the final, devastating confirmation of Julianna Vance’s corporate ruin. The Vance shipping blocks had been systematically crushed, absorbed into the sprawling, multi-billion-dollar framework of Blackburn Global like a small ship swallowed by a midnight tide.
Inside the executive elevator, the high-speed drop back down to the private garage was entirely silent. Elena stood with her hands clasped tightly over her navy designer clutch, her face an unbending mas
