CHAPTER 184: ACE IN THE HOLE

~CHARLES~

I smashed my burner phone against the marble fireplace with all the force I could muster. The plastic case splintered into pieces, and the battery skittered across the Persian rug.

"Damn it!" The roar echoed through my empty study, bouncing off walls lined with leather-bound books I’d never read.

For three days, I’d been trying to reach Downson. Three goddamn days of calls going straight to a dead, disconnected line.

Downson wasn’t just off the grid; he was gone. Vanished. And that was unusual, bordering on impossible.

In all the years we’d been doing business, through all our ’arrangements’, he’d never disappeared without a word. Even a simple "out of town" text was standard protocol.

Without Downson, I was blind and flying without instruments in a storm.

I paced my study like a caged animal, pouring brandy with a hand that shook more than I’d admit.

Henry, my ruthless partner, was deeply embedded within Eclipse Beauty and the O’Brien empire. The O’Briens were scrambling, desperate. The cartel was focused entirely on them, believing they’d stolen the money.

But Downson’s disappearance was a variable I didn’t account for.

I had to talk to Henry. Whatever this meant, we needed to be on the same page about the next move.

I picked up a different burner phone, one reserved for only one number.

"Yes?" Henry’s voice sounded slightly breathless, like I’d interrupted him mid-task.

"He’s gone," I said, skipping any pleasantries. "Downson. He’s vanished. Hasn’t checked in for three days. No calls, no messages, nothing."

There was a pause on the other end, long enough that I thought the connection had dropped. Then: "He’s probably been arrested. Or killed. It’s irrelevant either way. He was always a loose end we’d need to cut eventually."

"He was my loose end!" I snapped, my voice rising despite myself. "I’m blind out here, Henry, while you’re playing house with your sister and your new ’business partner.’ We need to meet. In person. Tonight."

"That’s sloppy, Charles," Henry replied, his voice dropping to that patronising tone I’d grown to hate. "Meeting face-to-face increases exposure. I’m in the middle of something right now..."

"I don’t care what you’re in the middle of!" I growled, slamming my glass down on the desk. "I don’t like this. Something feels off. Wrong. The usual spot, tonight, nine o’clock sharp."

"I’ll be late. I have family commitments to deal with first."

"I don’t care if you bring your entire family with you. Just be there. We need to accelerate the endgame before this whole thing collapses."

I hung up without waiting for a reply, not giving him a chance to argue or refuse.

I swirled the brandy in my glass, watching the liquid gold catch the lamplight. Downson was a problem, yes. A significant one.

But the real problem, the one I’d never admit out loud to Henry, was a growing, gnawing suspicion that had been eating at me for weeks.

I’d been Henry’s partner for years. I knew him. I understood how his mind worked, how he calculated risks and rewards.

Henry Porter’s only real loyalty was to himself.

—

An hour later, I sat in the back booth of The Blue Room, a dim, members-only cigar bar that smelled of stale smoke and old money.

It was our private, soundproofed, discreet spot, the kind of place where conversations stayed buried.

I was on my third brandy when Henry finally slid into the booth opposite me.

He looked irritatingly composed, wearing a cashmere sweater that screamed "approachable family man", totally different from my frantic energy and rumpled appearance.

"You look terrible, Charles," Henry noted casually, signalling the bartender for water. "Alcohol thins the blood. Makes you sloppy. Makes you make mistakes."

"And arrogance makes you blind," I shot back, leaning across the table. "Downson is gone, and the O’Briens’ head of security has been sniffing around, asking questions. You think that’s a coincidence?"

Henry waved a hand dismissively, like I was being paranoid. "Tye is a thug with connections, nothing more. He’s chasing shadows. If Downson is gone, it means he either messed up on another mission and went hiding or the cartel caught up with him for some other infraction. Either way, he can’t tie anything directly to us. I made sure the intermediaries were properly layered."

"You made sure?" I let out a harsh, mocking laugh that drew a glance from the bartender.

"My daughter said the same thing about her plans. Guess where she is now? Prison, Henry. Maximum security federal prison for ninety years. And now Downson is missing. The walls are closing in, and you’re sitting there drinking sparkling water like we haven’t stolen ninety million dollars from the most dangerous criminals on earth."

Henry’s eyes hardened instantly. The "good brother" mask slipped just enough to reveal the cold, calculating predator beneath. "Lower your voice."

"What is the endgame here?" I hissed, dropping my volume but increasing intensity. "Because right now, it looks like we’re just waiting around to be executed by cartel hitmen."

"The endgame remains exactly the same," Henry said with infuriating calm, leaning in so our faces were only inches apart. "In three days, the deadline expires. The Sinaloas will move against Axel and Layla. They’ll tear their lives apart piece by piece. Axel’s stock will plummet. The board will panic and oust him within days."

Henry smiled then. "And that’s when we step in as saviours. We use the capital we’ve acquired to buy the controlling stake in the O’Brien Group for a fraction of its value. We save the failing company and emerge as heroes who rescued it from Axel’s mismanagement.

"You get your revenge on the family that destroyed Cassandra. I get the empire I’ve always deserved. We walk away with the company and the cartel’s money."

"And what about the cartel? They don’t just forget ninety million dollars."

"They get their pound of flesh from Axel. Public humiliation, financial ruin, maybe even his life if they’re feeling vindictive." Henry’s smile widened.

"Once Axel is completely out of the picture, we negotiate a ’payment plan’ with the Sinaloas using the O’Brien Group’s profits. We position ourselves as the new management cleaning up Axel’s theft, promising steady payments over time. They eventually get their money back, we keep control of the company, and Axel takes the entire fall for the initial theft. It’s perfect."

"It relies on too many variables," I argued back, reaching for my glass again. "Specifically, it relies on no one finding the money trail before that deadline. What if they do? What if they dig up something?"

"They won’t. The layers are too deep." Henry paused, his expression hardening. "And if, by some miracle, they get close? We simply eliminate the problem. That junior associate who helped forge the documents? He disappears. Any trail leading back gets scrubbed."

I stared at him, a cold realisation settling in my gut like ice water.

Henry wasn’t just arrogant; he was delusional. He genuinely believed he was smarter than everyone else in this game.

He’s underestimating Axel and Layla because he thought being the smartest person in the room made him invincible. That was one mistake I know I won’t be repeating.

"One more thing," I said, my voice dropping to barely a whisper. "If this goes sideways... if they somehow find something that connects us... what happens to us then?"

Henry stood up slowly, buttoning his expensive coat. He looked down at me with an expression that chilled me to my bones, completely emotionless, calculating, dead.

"Nothing happens to us, Charles. Because if it comes to that, I am the victim here. I’m the brother who was duped and manipulated by his former business partner." Henry’s eyes were as cold as a winter sky.

"I’m the innocent party who got caught up in Charles Watson’s desperate schemes to avenge his daughter. If the ship goes down, make sure you have your own life vest. Because I won’t be throwing you one."

He turned and walked out of the smoky room without looking back, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my dying drink.

I sat there for a long time afterwards, staring at the empty chair across from me, letting Henry’s words sink in.

"You bastard," I whispered to the silence.

It was clear as crystal now. Henry had been planning to cut me loose from the beginning. If the heat got too high, if the walls closed in too tight, Henry would frame me for everything.

He’d play the innocent victim again, claim I’d manipulated him, used him, and walk away clean while I burned.

I downed the rest of my brandy in one burning gulp that made my eyes water.

Then I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a small flash drive, the insurance policy. It was my ace in the hole.

A complete record of our communications. Every email, every text from burner phones, every detail of our planning sessions. The transfers, the timeline, Henry’s instructions, and his knowledge of every single step.

Henry thought he was the only one playing chess while everyone else played checkers.

"You want to play loose ends, Henry?" I muttered, my grip tightening on the small drive until my knuckles went white. "Let’s see who cuts who first."