The silence of the grand conservatory grew heavier, the residual warmth of the low-burning hearth failing to touch the sudden chill left by Derrick's departure. Elizabeth remained perfectly still by the massive glass wall, her reflection staring back at her against the backdrop of the moonlit Crest District hills.
'He's probably already moving,' she realized, her fingers tapping a restless rhythm against the smooth crystal of her wine glass.
She turned away from the window, her mind moving with calculated efficiency. Her original plan—the slow observation of Jake Rivers as he swallowed the remnants of the Sterling empire—was obsolete.
If Derrick intended to use the upcoming chaos to tighten the state's grip on Golden Investments under the guise of an audit or a national security review, she had to construct a counterweight before he does anything. Jake Rivers was sharp, but he had never faced the institutional malice of the Roys bloodline.
