"I mean we confront him. With the recordings. The evidence of fraud. The missing woman. Everything." My voice hardens.
"We make it clear that if anything happens to you or Poppy, if he doesn't sign away all parental rights immediately, every bit of evidence goes to the FBI, the SEC, Interpol—and every news outlet in the country."
"He'll never agree."
"He will when he understands the alternative." I lean closer, making sure she hears every word.
"Men like Elliot survive by staying in shadows. By controlling the narrative. We're going to rip that control away and give him exactly one chance to walk away clean."
"And if he refuses?"
"Then I destroy him." The words come out cold, precise. "Not through courts. Not through judges. Through information. Through exposure. Through fear."
I watch her process this, see the conflict in her eyes, the mother who wants safety battling with the woman who's been running for too long.
"This isn't just my decision," I add, softening my tone. "This is your life. Your daughter. Your choice."
She looks down at Poppy, sleeping peacefully despite everything. When she raises her eyes to mine again, there's a steely resolve I haven't seen before.
"Take me to him."
Relief and determination surge through me. I tap on the partition, signaling our driver.
"Change of plans," I tell him when the window slides down. "We need Elliot Whitcomb's current location."
The driver nods, already reaching for his secure phone to contact our team. Within minutes, he has what we need.
"The Sentinel Hotel," he reports. "Downtown Portland. He's in a meeting right now but expected back by six."
Perfect. That gives us time to prepare, to set the stage. I pull out my phone, sending rapid-fire texts to our security team with updated instructions.
"What's the plan?" Sadie asks, gathering the evidence back into the folder with steady hands.
"We go in smart. Controlled environment. Security team in place." I outline the basics as they form in my mind.
"We'll book the suite adjacent to his. Security will sweep it for surveillance devices, secure all exits. We'll have eyes on Elliot from the moment he returns to the hotel."
She nods, following my logic. "And then?"
"Then we invite him over for a conversation he can't refuse." I reach for her hand, needing her to understand exactly what I'm proposing. "Sadie, this gets ugly from here. Are you absolutely sure?"
Her fingers tighten around mine, her gaze unwavering. "I've spent two years running from him. I'm done running."
I signal the driver to proceed, feeling a grim satisfaction settle in my chest. The plan forming in my mind isn't pretty, isn't noble, but it's effective. And right now, effective is all that matters.
As the SUV pulls back onto the highway toward Portland, I watch the rain streaking across the windows, obscuring the landscape beyond. In just a few hours, this will be over. One way or another, Elliot Whitcomb's reign of terror ends tonight.
I glance at Sadie, at the determined set of her jaw, at her hand protectively resting near Poppy's car seat. She catches my gaze and gives me a small nod, part acknowledgment, part permission.
We're in this together now. No courts. No judges. No system that can be corrupted or manipulated.
Just us, Elliot, and the truth that will burn his world to the ground.
I call Reeves as Sadie checks on Poppy in the back seat. His voice is tense when he answers.
"Change of plans," I tell him, keeping my voice steady. "No hotel confrontation. Too controlled, too many variables we can't account for."
"What are you thinking?"
