Chapter 5 - The Unholy Alliance
The ballroom was a cacophony of shattered reputations. As flashbulbs popped and security struggled to hold back the press, Lan’s hand remained tight on my arm. Her grip was desperate, the touch of a woman who had finally realized she was clinging to a sinking anchor.
"The server isn't in his office," Lan whispered, her voice barely audible over the commotion. "It’s encrypted on a hardware key he keeps on his person at all times—usually in his cufflinks or his watch."
I looked at Minh. He was currently caught in a verbal crossfire with a television journalist. He looked small, his arrogance stripped away, replaced by the cornered-animal desperation of a man whose house of cards was collapsing in real-time.
"Why help me, Lan?" I asked, keeping my gaze forward so as not to draw attention. "You wanted his empire. You wanted to be the queen."
Lan looked at her reflection in the nearby glass wall. "I wanted a future. He told me you were dying. He told me the baby would be the only thing keeping the company afloat. But looking at the way he’s looking at you... he isn't afraid of the law. He’s afraid of you."
She was right. Minh wasn't looking at the reporters; he was scanning the crowd for me. He knew, deep down, that the leak had to have come from inside.
"If we get that key," I said, my voice cold and surgical, "you and I are going to become the greatest threat he has ever faced. But know this: once he goes down, there is no going back. You will be scrutinized by every government agency in the country."
"Better them than him," she replied.
We moved through the crowd like ghosts. My body was still screaming in pain, each step a testament to the surgery he had forced upon me, but the fire in my veins numbed the agony. We approached him from opposite sides.
"Minh," I said, stepping into his line of sight. He froze. "You look tired. Maybe you should take off that watch. It’s weighing you down."
His eyes narrowed, his face contorting with rage. "You bitch," he hissed, low enough that only I could hear. "You set this up."
"I just let you reveal yourself," I smiled.
Lan moved in, playing her part. "Minh, sweetheart, you're bleeding on your cuff," she lied smoothly, reaching for his left wrist. As he reflexively jerked back, she expertly snagged the custom-made watch—a piece of technology far more sophisticated than a timekeeper.
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"Got it," she breathed.
We didn't stay to watch the fallout. We turned and slipped through the service exit, leaving the CEO of Gia Minh to face the wreckage of his own design.
