Chapter9:Polished Floors, Dirty Hands
725 Words
Her glare killed it.
“And if either of you lays a finger on her,” she added, voice dropping low, “you’ll wish you’d never drawn breath.”
They nodded and vanished.
Diana looked back at them one last time.
“Don’t mistake this for kindness,” she said coolly. “This is patience.”
Her eyes locked on Austin’s.
She turned. Heels echoed. The door closed with a hollow thud.
Selene sagged forward, a weak sob escaping.
Austin closed his eyes tightly.
Water was coming.
But the real damage—the kind that didn’t show on skin—was already done.
And whatever came next, he knew one thing with brutal certainty:
Diana wasn’t finished breaking them.
..................
The Blake Group headquarters gleamed under the afternoon sun—the glass and steel screaming money and power. Inside the executive floor, silence pressed down like a lid.
Richard Blake stood at the conference room window, hands clasped behind his back, staring at cargo ships crawling across the harbor. His reflection looked calm. Only the rigid line of his shoulders gave him away.
Eleanor sat opposite, legs crossed, posture perfect. She looked bored, but her eyes missed nothing.
Between them, a man knelt on marble. His jacket was removed, his tie discarded, sweat soaking his shirt. Hands shaking so hard they blurred.
Richard spoke first, voice low. “Do you understand how much damage one mistake causes?”
The man shook his head fast. “Sir, please—I didn’t mean—”
“Intentions don’t pay bills,” Eleanor cut in, flat. “Outcomes do.”
The man’s eyes darted. “It was one crate. Just one. I didn’t know it was tracked.”
Richard turned slowly and walked over. Crouched to eye-level.
“What was in the crate?”
Silence.
Richard didn’t raise his voice. “What. Was. In. It.”
“Pharmaceuticals,” the man whispered. “Unregistered. Ex…peri..mental.” he stuttered
Eleanor leaned forward. “Enough violations to sink us.”
Richard stood. “Where is it now?”
“I don’t know! Stolen. Intercepted. I panicked—I thought I could fix it before—”
The slap cracked loudly. The man’s head snapped sideways; he cried out, scrambling upright.
Richard loomed. “I asked a question.”
“I don’t know!” Sobs now. “Please—my family—my kids—”
Richard raised a hand. Guards stepped from the shadows, grabbing arms.
“We don’t touch families,” Richard said evenly. “Unless forced.”
The man whimpered as they dragged him out. Shoes scraped marble. Cries faded down the hall.
Doors shut.
Eleanor poured water into her glass and sipped. “Sloppy,” she said
Richard rubbed his temple. “The crate surfaces eventually.”
“It does,” she said. “The question is where—and who finds it first.”
She set the glass down. “I’ll tell Diana to clean the external mess.”
Richard nodded. “And Austin?”
Eleanor’s lips thinned. “Distracted. For now.”
“That girl—”
“Temporary,” Eleanor said. “If Diana had handled it properly.”
Richard turned back to the window. “This was supposed to be clean. The marriage. The alliance. Stability.”
“Stability costs,” Eleanor replied. “You taught him that.”
A beat.
“What if the old documents resurface?” Richard asked quietly.
Eleanor stiffened. “They won’t.”
“Her father was meticulous.”
“And dead,” she said. “Like her mother.”
The words landed heavily.
Richard’s voice dropped. “If Austin starts asking—”
“I’ll handle it.” Eleanor’s tone sharpened. “Like always.”
She sat again, graceful. “He doesn’t need truth. He needs direction.”
“And Selene?”
Eleanor’s eyes darkened. “Leverage. If she talks, we end it.”
Richard exhaled. “Call Diana. Tell her to finish tonight.”
Eleanor picked up her phone.
Downstairs, in a soundproof room far below the polished floors, the man’s screams echoed once—short, sharp.
Then silence.
Above, emails pinged. Deals were closed and futures secured.
And in a dark warehouse by the docks, their son stayed chained—still blind to the blood under his name, the empire waiting to swallow him whole.
- Writer
