Page 1 of Secret Revenge

1

EMILY

This sneak-in hung on Michael, my tech-savvy friend, hacking into the security systems at the precise half-second. Giddy with adrenaline, I stood in line for Calypso, a high-end, members-only club. My heart pounded in sync with the low baseline of the music seeping faintly out of the club.

Visitors have to scan their fingerprints at the door to be allowed in. Problem… I was not a visitor. The line was getting shorter, and it was almost my turn at the scanner. I eyed it nervously and locked gazed with one of the bouncers. I tried to be natural and smile, but my lips froze as the earpiece hidden underneath my hair squawked with Michael’s voice.

“Emily… small… problem… I need… seconds… distract…”

I resisted the urge to raise my hand to my ear to try to hear better. Calypso had radio jammers of some sort, so Michael and I knew they wouldn’t work well once I got close. Still, I needed to do something.

Shit! There’s only one person left before me!

The bouncer still had his eyes on me. He was suspicious. With my heart in my throat, I quickly rubbed a finger over my lip.

“NEXT!”

The bouncer’s booming voice was directed at me. He hadn’t said a word to anyone else. Yeah… he was suspicious alright.

I walked up to the scanner and put up my index finger. Unsurprisingly, it glowed red.

“Oh, what?” I acted confused.

The bouncer’s eyebrows turned down and he began to reach for me.

“...now!” Michael’s voice came over the speakers.

I looked at my finger as naturally as I could and chuckled breathlessly at the lipstick stain. “Oh, silly me.”

The bouncer paused and looked at the machine, seeing the clear red print. He frowned at me, but took out a handkerchief to wipe the scanner while I made a show of cleaning off my finger too.

I smiled at him and held eye contact to feign confidence as I put my finger against the scanner again. This time it was immediately green.

The bouncer moved aside to let me pass, but narrowed his eyes at me for two seconds more, before turning to the next visitor.

I headed through the doors into the club, the music rushing to assault my hearing. I felt my hands sweating.

Fuck… that was close.

I ran my hand through my hair, casually taking out my hidden earpiece and slipping it into my purse.

It’s useless in here anyway.

Lights flashed above my head, and the ground thrummed beneath my feet from the base as I walked towards the bar. Iheld my head high, pretending to be someone who deserved to be here. One of the rich. One of the lucky ones.

I recognized many of the people I breezed past as celebrities, businessmen, politicians—the sophisticated elite of New York.

I avoided eye contact as I scanned the club for my target. My eyes widened. I found him, sitting beside the indoor balcony on the floor above me.

Travis Ross, the oldest of the Ross brothers. The three young billionaires had taken over their late father’s empire a year before and now dominated Wall Street. They were on the cover of every business magazine, and quite a few gossip tabloids too.

Next to my target is a man that makes every fibre of my being twist with disdain... and just a bit of fear. Kurt Blackwell. The notorious son of Bryce Blackwell, a criminal mastermind, and the once-trusted ally of Travis’s late father. They both unknowingly command my undivided attention.

I clutch my bag tighter, pretending to sway to the music in an effort to blend in.

My vendetta against the Ross brothers was as personal as it gets, born from the wreckage of my dad's dreams after their father bulldozed through his life.

I picked up journalism as my weapon, hoping to expose the man who ruined us, but he died before I could land the blow. His empire, however, lived on through his sons. And that will have to do.