“Idiots,” Penny said.
“I don’t get it,” Michael said, looking around the table, thoroughly perplexed. “What exactly was the trap?”
“When I was still engaged to Thompson,” Gill began, her tone turning analytical, “he asked if his family’s environmental firm could perform a private soil survey on the harbor tract. Then Hyrum arrived, claiming they needed to perform deep core testing, giving some bogus geological reason. I didn't think anything of it then. What I didn’t realize until we ran our own secret, high-resolution scans recently was that they had planted stolen colonial-era artifacts deep in the lower strata. They had executed the planting so professionally, using specialized turf replacement, that you wouldn't even know the soil had been disturbed.”
“Why would they do that?” Maggie asked, her brow contouring in confusion. “Wouldn’t stalling a prime development site be absolutely detrimental to their own long-term plans for the harbor?”
"As it turns out," Darius said, his tone sharpening with anticipation, "we have been closely monitoring Rory’s encrypted email. We managed to intercept a direct email exchange sent from Thompson Wineberg's private campaign server straight to Rory's personal terminal."
"What did the message say?" Isabel asked, leaning forward on her elbows.
"Thompson was instructing Rory to maintain maximum pressure on Baxter," Darius explained, setting his coffee mug down with a soft click. "He explicitly told Rory to keep whispering in Baxter's ear, making him convince me that the historic freeze had turned the Charleston harbor project into a financial liability. To make the exit strategy look like a lifesaver, South Coast Hotels offered to step in and buy the property off our hands for the exact amount we originally paid for it."
Michael's forehead lined with a worried frown as he tapped his fingers against his water glass. "But if the historical society has a freeze on the construction permits, that block is basically dead for development. If the Winebergs buy the land, how do they plan to get around the state-mandated heritage dig?"
"Rory asked Thompson that exact same question in his reply," Baxter chimed in, a slow, calculated grin returning to his face. "And Thompson was arrogant enough to lay out their entire exit strategy in writing."
Owen sat back against his cushion, a dark, heavy revelation clicking into place behind his eyes as he looked at Baxter. "What is their masterstroke?"
"The moment South Coast Hotels takes official ownership of the deed, they are going to publicly fire Hyrum's inspection team,"Baxter revealed, his jaw tightening. "Thompson stated they will release a press statement claiming the inspectors were corrupt, operating secretly on the payroll of a rival firm to plant fake colonial artifacts on the site to sabotage the Wayne Group's acquisition."
"Good grief," Maggie murmured in total disbelief, shaking her head. "That is incredibly ruthless."
"It's a perfect corporate squeeze," Darius stated flatly, his expression turning thoroughly lethal. "By framing a fake competitor for planting the artifacts, the Winebergs look like the innocent victims and saviors of the Wayne Group from all this mess at the same time. The state division will immediately clear the historic hold on the harbor tract, Thompson clears the regulatory path, and they get to resume construction under their deep-water shipping permits while the Wayne Group walks away financially defeated."
"Heads I win," Owen said, letting out a long, slow sigh as he recognized the family's classic, predatory pattern. It was the exact same game they had played to fracture his life ten years ago, just with a different corporate spin. "Tails you lose."
"Yes," Darius agreed, his eyes shining with a cold, triumphant intellect. "Exactly that. Only, Thompson has absolutely no idea that his digital signature is currently sitting on our secure server, giving us the exact evidence we need to end his gubernatorial run for good."
LINDA
Linda sat quietly at the end of the long dining table, her fingers tracing the smooth ceramic of her lukewarm coffee mug as she watched the tactical briefing unfold. She kept her lips pressed into a neutral, silent line, actively choosing to listen rather than speak. While the technical complexities of the Charleston harbor project and the Wineberg’s financial traps bounced across the room, Linda's mind kept drifting backward, retracing her steps to the narrow alleyway beside the ice cream shop.
Darius had used their private, encrypted messaging application to send her a brief, urgent text requesting she meet him in the alley. He had kept the message deliberately cryptic, stating only that a mutual acquaintance of theirs had just arrived in town and desperately wanted to see her.
Curiosity, and a sudden spike of nervous adrenaline, had driven her straight to the designated spot. The moment she stepped into the deep shadow of the brick building, she had been thoroughly surprised to find Gill standing there. It was a happy surprise, a wave of genuine warmth flooding Linda’s chest at the sight of her old friend.
But the relief had been cut short by an immediate, lingering worry. The very same vipers who had systematically tried to destroy Gill’s academic career in South Carolina were now actively operating on Sanibel Island.
Linda’s thoughts had immediately shifted with a sharp, maternal pang of anxiety toward Isabel. She knew how close Isabel and Owen had been growing recently. She had felt a deep, undeniable connection between them from the very moment they first crossed paths at the local summer festival when Isabel first arrived in town. If Owen’s past with both Gill and Debbi came crashing into the present, the blast radius would inevitably level what Isabel was trying to build. But she hadn't had the luxury of time to dwell on her worries before Gill had to stealthily slip away to her pickup point.
That was when Darius had stayed behind in the shadows to give Linda the cliff notes version of the strategy he was currently explaining to the rest of the table.
Initially, Linda had struggled to process the sheer scope of what he was telling her. He had orchestrated this entire corporate chess match, risking his standing with the board, staging a highly public disgrace for Baxter, and setting up a counter-sting on a multimillion-dollar harbor development, to protect her family’s legacy. He was doing all of this to save the Hearts Hotel and also Linda’s family. In turn, he’d be taking down a ruthless family that had reigned unchecked for far too long, destroying people's lives without so much as a twinge of regret.
But now, listening to the magnitude of this elaborate plan, she felt her heart hammer against her ribs, a sudden, overwhelming wave of emotion spreading like wildfire through her veins. Linda felt absolutely floored by the depth of Darius’s dedication.
And at first it had seemed wildly far-fetched, but she believed him.
Linda’s belief wasn't simply a product of the jaw-dropping legal covenant he had forced her to sign. The memory of that document still made her breath catch in her throat, forcing her to give herself a silent, internal shake. It was a legally binding, ironclad trust agreement stating that should Darius ever mislead her or breach her personal confidence again, his entire private fortune and his controlling executive shares in the Wayne Group would immediately forfeit directly to her.
It was an insane, breathtaking display of absolute surrender and proof of his feelings for her. Of course, Linda knew there were minor exceptions to any absolute rule. Everyone told small, harmless fibs occasionally because they were all human, but the sheer weight of his gesture had dismantled her final defenses.
Linda glanced sideways at his strong profile, her cheeks growing warm as the distinct, tingling memory of his lips pressing against hers surfaced. She felt a sudden flush of heat creep up her neck as she recalled that she had actually been the one to initiate the embrace.
Linda had been so overwhelmed by the outline of his plan, and the raw vulnerability in his dark eyes, that she had instinctively stepped forward, tilted her chin up, and kissed him. It was meant to be a sweet, simple gesture of profound gratitude. But the second their eyes locked in the dim alleyway, the air between them had turned electric. Darius had pulled her securely against his chest, and within seconds, they were no longer just two mature adults standing next to a commercial dumpster behind an ice cream shop. The world around them had faded away entirely.
Isabel’s sharp, questioning voice broke through Linda’s thoughts, dragging her abruptly back to the high-stakes atmosphere of the beach house dining room.
