Chapter 3 No.3

The word hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Unless.

Hank stared at the shattered glass at his feet, his brain struggling to catch up with the sudden violence of the room. He looked at the phone again, the evidence of his betrayal glowing on the screen. The color drained from his face, leaving him looking sickly and grey.

"Annette, baby," he stammered, stepping over the glass, his hands raised in a pathetic gesture of surrender. "It... it was a moment of weakness. It meant nothing. She means nothing."

From the hallway, Elena let out a small, wounded sound, but no one looked at her.

"She seduced him!" Bernadine interjected, stepping between Hank and Edward, her maternal instinct kicking in to protect her investment. "It's that Vance girl's fault. She's been throwing herself at him for months. Hank is a man, Edward. You know how it is."

Annette didn't even look at them. She kept her gaze fixed on Edward. "My brother is drafting a press release as we speak," she lied, her voice smooth as silk.

Lucas didn't miss a beat. He pulled out his phone and started tapping furiously. "Adams Corp pulls funding. Effective immediately. We'll cite 'moral turpitude' in the filing."

"No!" Hank shouted, panic finally piercing his drunken haze. "My Senate campaign! I need that war chest! The primaries are in three months!"

"You should have thought of that before you unzipped your pants," Lucas muttered, not looking up from his screen.

Bernadine turned on Annette, her eyes flashing with venom. "You're being hysterical, Annette. Look at you. Every powerful man slips up. It's part of the burden. You think you're the first woman to be cheated on? Grow up."

Annette's lips curled into a faint smile. "Is that what you told yourself when Edward had his affairs with his secretaries? Is that how you justified climbing into his bed while his first wife was dying?"

The room went deathly silent.

Edward stiffened. Bernadine's mouth opened and closed like a fish. That was a rumor, a dark whisper in D.C. circles, but no one had ever dared to say it to her face.

"That's enough," Edward growled, glaring at Bernadine to silence her. He turned to Annette. "What do you want, Annette? You said 'unless'."

Annette walked around the desk. She picked up a piece of paper-a blank notepad from the desk-and a pen.

"First," she said, "Elena Vance signs a Non-Disclosure Agreement. A strict one. If she breathes a word about us, about this night, about Hank, she gets sued for every penny she will ever earn."

"And," Annette continued, her eyes sliding to the doorway where Elena was shivering, "She leaves D.C. Tonight."

"Leaves?" Hank blinked. "Where? She lives here."

"Not anymore," Annette said. "I want her in a remote aid program. I want her volunteering somewhere far away. Somewhere dusty, with no cell service. Maybe one of those war-torn places you see on the news?"

"Exile," Hank whispered. "You can't do that. She's... she's a person."

"She mocked my family," Lucas said, stepping forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "She called us a cash cow. She stays, we walk. And we take the money with us."

Edward looked at Hank. "Sign the NDA," he barked at Elena. "Or I disown you, Hank. I swear to God, I will cut you off without a dime."

Hank looked at Bernadine for help. Bernadine looked away, her mind already calculating the losses. She offered no defense.

Hank looked back at Elena. His ambition warred with his lust, and ambition won in a heartbeat. He looked down. "I'm sorry, Elena."

Elena let out a sob and turned to run, but Lucas's bodyguard blocked her path.

"Not until she signs," Annette said coldly.

"You're cruel," Hank whispered, looking at Annette with a mixture of fear and confusion. "Who are you? You're not the Annette I know."

"I'm the woman holding your checkbook," Annette replied. "And I'm just getting started."

She turned to Edward. "Call your lawyer. We need to formalize the punishment."

Edward nodded slowly. He pressed a button on the intercom. "Send Mr. Harrison in. Now."

Annette leaned back against the desk, crossing her arms. Her heart was beating calmly, steadily. The grief she had expected to feel for the end of her relationship wasn't there. There was only the thrill of the kill.