Chapter 120 - The Paris Infiltration
Thirty-six hours later, the rain in Paris fell in cold, relentless sheets against the ancient cobblestone streets of the 8th Arrondissement.
In a hidden luxury apartment overlooking the Eiffel Tower, the mood was tense. News feeds across Europe were dominated by Count Dominic Sterling-Vance’s campaign, depicting Ethan and me as fugitive child-traffickers fleeing international justice. Sterling-Vance stock had tumbled twelve percent at the opening bell in New York, with major shareholders demanding my immediate resignation as Chairwoman.
I stood before a full-length mirror wearing a breathtaking, floor-length backless gown made of midnight-blue silk, adorned with dark sapphire jewelry. My hair was styled in an elegant French twist, a lace mask partially obscuring the upper half of my face.
Ethan stepped up behind me in the mirror, looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and silk bow tie. He reached around my waist, pulling me gently against his broad chest, his thumb caressing the soft skin of my hand.
"You look like a queen going to war," Ethan whispered, his deep baritone sending a wave of electric confidence through my veins.
"I am a mother going to reclaim her children's future," I corrected, turning in his arms to fix his bow tie. "Dominic is hosting his private victory gala tonight at the Palais Garnier. Every high-society broker, dirty politician, and corrupted judge in Europe will be there."
"Marcus managed to intercept the VIP guest registry," Ethan said, pulling a sleek, button-sized device from his pocket and pinning it discreetly beneath the lapel of my gown. "This is a military-grade biometric skimmer. The moment you get within three feet of Dominic, it will clone the encrypted digital keys stored on his signet ring."
"And those keys open his private server vault in Geneva," I realized, my eyes flashing with sharp determination. "The server containing the authentic, unedited adoption ledgers from ten years ago."
"Exactly," Ethan murmured, leaning down to press his lips against mine in a deep, lingering kiss that tasted of sweet promise and fierce devotion. "I'll be watching you from the upper balcony with a long-range sniper unit. If he so much as touches your hand disrespectfully, I take his head off."
"Keep your head cool, my husband," I smiled softly, tracing the strong line of his jaw. "Tonight, we let Dominic believe he has won... right up until the trap springs."
Twenty minutes later, my chauffeured vintage Rolls-Royce pulled up to the grand entrance of the Palais Garnier. Flashbulbs exploded like white lightning as high-society guests in opulent attire ascended the velvet-carpeted marble stairs under the watchful eyes of heavily armed private guards.
I stepped out onto the red carpet, my head held high, my posture regal and unyielding.
As I entered the grand ballroom under the towering crystal chandeliers, the ambient chatter of hundreds of aristocrats slowly died down. Standing near the central marble staircase, holding a crystal glass of champagne, was Count Dominic Sterling-Vance.
He turned, his dark, icy eyes locking onto me behind my lace mask. A sinister, triumphant smile curled his lips as he set his glass down and walked down the steps to meet me.
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"Chairwoman Vance," Dominic purred, taking my hand and bowing slightly, his dragon signet ring brushing against my skin. "Or should I say... my fugitive guest of honor? I must admit, walking into my house takes a special kind of foolishness."
"I didn't come to your house as a guest, Dominic," I said softly, my voice cold as liquid nitrogen as the skimmer beneath my lapel hummed quietly, downloading his encrypted data. "I came to deliver your final eviction notice."
