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“We're done here,” she says crisply.
Brandon rises too, his mask back in place. “You've grown cold, Krissy.”
She yanks the briefcase from his reach with fire in her eyes.
“Kristine.”
She releases the funds to him, and he nods to who I assume is the nanny. While we wait, Kristine continues.
“I'm not cold, Brandon,” she turns toward me, reaching for my hand once more. “I've just learned what warmth really feels like. You're heading down the wrong path, and I don't want my son to be collateral damage.”
I can't help but marvel at the incredible woman beside me who faced down her dragon and emerged victorious for herself and her child.
Her strength is unmatched. Her will unbreakable. And I know beyond any doubt that together, we are unstoppable.
“I'll go help him pack.” Kristine heads back, leaving us alone.
Brandon advances to the bar and pours himself a drink, barely paying attention to the fact that it is just past ten o'clock in the morning.
He sits down on one of the couches, takes a drink, and points at me with the glass. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“You have Dexter, which means you probably have compromising information on me too.”
“Yes, I do. But today's not about you. It's about Kristine and Asher.”
“How do I know you won't use it?”
“You don't.” I sit back, stretching my arms over the back of the couch. I enjoy watching this man cower after he’s caused the woman I love so much pain.
“However, come near them intending harm, and I won't show mercy the way Kristine did today. You, Brandon Prescott, should be behind bars. But for now, I'll settle for ruining your political career because the people of New York deserve better.”
Brandon seems to hesitate, and his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn't take the bait. Not yet, so I insist. “Go on, call Dexter or Mike, and find out how things went last night. You'll be in for a not-so-pleasant surprise.”
The certainty in my words finally seems to make him take action, so Brandon picks up the phone, looks at the screen for a moment, and frowns.
Immediately, he calls Dexter, and as he does, it begins to dawn on him that I'm not lying. He's lost everything in less than twelve hours.
“What the fuck have you done?” he asks. For the first time, his tone of voice shows some of the anger and anxiety he was hoping to make Kristine feel.
He stands up and starts checking his messages and calls. From where I am, I can't see the phone, but I know what's in store for him.
My associates have taken it upon themselves to spread the news that Dexter Whitmore and Brandon Prescott are down, as is everyone associated with them.
The news has spread like wildfire through the underworld, and in less than a night, his allies have deserted him like rats fleeing a shipwreck.
“You fucking bastard!” Brandon barks, throwing his phone against the wall.
A part of me basks in his anger. Not only is he broke, but the evidence I possess could land him in jail, causing him to have to spend his entire life in misery.
“Now that we're all on the same page, I'll tell you what I want from you, Brandon Prescott.”
He looks up to meet my gaze. His eyes are bloodshot with anger, and his hair is tousled.
I straighten up in the seat and rest the weight of my elbows on my legs, keeping a perfect poker face.
“I'll be honest with you, Kristine's mercy is the only thing that saved you from going to prison for good, which is what you deserve. But that won't stop me from hedging some insurance that you'llneverhurt them again.”
