Chapter 2 - The Lazarus Protocol
The voice crackling through the vessel’s marine radio belonged to Julian Sterling.
Three years ago, Julian had been my father’s brilliant young protégé, the chief operational architect who had helped build Whitmore Capital into an unstoppable titan. Daniel had viewed him as a rival, fabricating a ruthless smear campaign of corporate espionage that forced Julian into self-imposed exile. I had stayed silent back then, believing my husband’s poisonous lies. Now, Julian was the only reason I was being pulled from the jaws of the abyss.
Rough hands in heavy neoprene hauled me onto the deck of a sleek, black interceptor vessel. Saltwater poured from my lungs as I collapsed, coughing violently against the cold fiberglass. My fingers were shattered, purple and deformed where Vanessa’s spike heel had pulverized bone and sinew. My evening gown hung in sodden tatters, clinging to my trembling skin like a shroud.
A paramedic immediately threw a thermal shock blanket over my shoulders, pressing an oxygen mask to my face. The ship’s engines roared, carving through the black Atlantic swells at breakneck speed.
Through the haze of hypothermia and blinding agony, I looked up. Julian stepped out from the wheelhouse. He was taller than I remembered, his jawline hardened by years away from the high-society spotlight, his dark eyes ablaze with cold fury. He dropped to one knee beside me, wrapping his own heavy wool coat around my shivering frame.
“You’re safe, Claire,” he whispered, his voice steady yet vibrating with suppressed rage. “Breathe. Just breathe. We’ve got you.”
“Julian...” I choked out behind the mask, tears cutting hot paths through the dried brine on my cheeks. “Daniel... Vanessa... they tried to—”
“I know,” Julian interrupted gently, holding up his phone. The screen displayed real-time telemetry from the smartwatch Michael Hayes had fastened to my wrist. “Every word. Every heartbeat. The angle of the drop, the impact velocity, and the audio file. We heard what they did. Hayes contacted me the second your distress beacon tripped.”
“They think I’m dead,” I whispered, agony radiating down my shattered arm.
Julian looked toward the distant, empty horizon where Daniel’s yacht had vanished into the mist. A razor-sharp smile touched his lips, devoid of warmth.
May you like
“Let them think the Atlantic swallowed you whole,” Julian said. “Let Daniel celebrate. Let Vanessa pick out her new wardrobe. The higher they climb on their mountain of lies, Claire, the further they will plummet when we tear the foundation out from beneath their feet.”
***
