Page 52 of Corrupted Empire

Not for the first time, I find myself eternally grateful for my best friend’s support. I can always count on her.

“I had this idea,” I say. “It’s a bit risky, but I think it could work.”

Ever since my confrontation with Felicity Huffman at the gala, I’ve been racking my brain for ways to dethrone her. The Cartel are a powerful force in the city, but they haven’t always been, and they can’t be forever. It’s up to Gabriel and me to push them out, and I think I might have devised a way to do just that.

“Purple heroin is overwhelming the city, but after my article was published, there was a brief blip where trade stalled. Back then I only knew half the story, but now I know all of it. I want to try again, see if we can bring it to a full-on halt.”

Clara nods slowly. “But how would we do that?”

“Obviously I have access to a lot of funds at the moment, and I also have strong journalism connections,” I tell her. “I was thinking that we could hire a team of reporters to investigate all angles of the operation. Like I’ve been doing with my blog, but more in depth. If we paint their names and pictures all over the news, we’ll be giving the police a lot more to work with and making it a lot more difficult for them to function.”

Clara grins. “Let’s do it.”

“You don’t have any follow-up questions?” I ask, chuckling. “This could be quite risky.”

She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do anything to bring the Cartel down.”

“Okay,” I say, opening up the file on my computer, where I’ve been keeping all my notes. “Let’s begin.”

* * *

It’s late when I finish work. I spend most of the day coordinating the first steps in my plan of attack, and by the time I haul my ass down to the car waiting in front of the building, I am exhausted. It feels strange to think I haven’t seen Harry since I left the mansion this morning. I miss him like crazy.

When I arrive back at the mansion, I take a quick detour to the kitchen to shove some bread and cheese in my face before walking up the stairs to the second floor. I poke my head in Harry’s nursery, but he isn’t there. I journey down the hall to Gabriel’s office and rap on the door.

“Come in,” he calls.

I walk in to find Gabriel sitting in his tall leather chair, with Harry balanced on his knee and a picture book open in his free hand. The pair of them look up when I enter, and Harry squeals happily.

“Momma!”

“Hey, baby,” I greet, walking around the desk. I pull him into my arms. “Look at you two, reading together.”

“I was getting him ready for bed,” Gabriel says, setting the book down. “You’re home late.”

It’s a statement, though there’s a hint of a question buried within it. Gabriel is uncomfortable with this role reversal—however temporary it may be.

I bounce Harry around the room. “I was working on something,” I say.

Gabriel lifts one dark brow and leans back in his chair, urging me to continue. He looks more relaxed than I am used to, in just a plain white T-shirt and sweatpants, rather than his usual full suit. The cotton clings to the muscles of his chest, and I have to rip my eyes away while I decide the best way to phrase what I am about to say.

“I’ve started a new initiative,” I say finally. “Something that I think could help take down the Cartel.”

Gabriel sits straighter, his mouth tightening. “What have you done?”

“Nothing yet,” I reply. “I only just started today. I’m going to hire a team of reporters to expose them. Like I did in my article but on a grander scale.”

Gabriel rises from his chair and leans against the front of his desk, scowling. “You should have talked to me,” he says, irritation threading through his words. “You can’t just start making plays on your own. That’s not how it works. You might have interfered with a plan I already had in motion, or one I intended to set into motion soon. You could have really screwed things up.”

“If you were putting a plan into motion, shouldn’t you tell me? I thought we were going to be partners in this,” I say haughtily.

“No.” He stops to face me, dark eyes boring into mine. “I am still the boss. Do not mistake my indulgences for testaments of your autonomy.”

I bristle a little at this, but what did I expect? There is a reason he is in charge. Did I think that just because we have a child together, he was going to hand me the mantle and tell me to do as I please?

That being said…

“I get that, but I still think I deserve a little leeway,” I reply. With a sigh, I add, “I’m trying, Gabriel.”

---