Chapter 9 - TRUST MY VOICE
Celeste took Ivy back to Marseille.
That was her first mistake.
The second was allowing Ivy to speak.
They kept her aboard a private yacht anchored beyond the old harbor.
Celeste spent hours questioning her about childhood phrases.
Ivy answered.
Mostly with lies.
But she also listened.
Arabic from one guard.
Russian from another.
French radio communications.
Spanish from the engine crew.
People continued making the same mistake they'd made her entire life.
They assumed she only understood the language they used with her.
By midnight, Ivy knew the yacht's security rotation.
By morning, she knew Celeste planned to move Gray Door's remaining money at 6:00 p.m.
And by noon, she discovered the password.
Not because Celeste found it.
Because Ivy remembered.
Her father used to say one sentence whenever she was frightened.
The door is gray only until you open it.
It wasn't philosophy.
It was a key.
Meanwhile, Damon arrived in Marseille with Rocco and Faucher.
Faucher looked offended when Damon questioned his loyalty.
"The wolf saved my business."
"She insulted you."
"Exactly. Nobody honest speaks politely all the time."
Rocco muttered, "I actually like him."
They located the yacht through a harbor contact.
But attacking it would endanger Ivy.
Damon paced.
Rocco watched him.
"She said trust her voice."
"I heard her."
"Then trust it."
At 5:42 p.m., Damon's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
A woman spoke rapid Arabic.
Damon understood none of it.
Then she said in English:
"Wrong number."
The call ended.
Damon stared at the phone.
Rocco frowned.
"What?"
Damon replayed it.
Three Arabic words repeated.
Faucher translated.
"Dock. Seven. North."
Damon smiled.
"Ivy."
She had stolen a guard's phone.
At six, Celeste brought Ivy into the yacht's communications room.
"Enough games."
The Gray Door accounts were open on twelve monitors.
Twenty-eight billion dollars waited behind Arthur's final encryption.
Celeste placed a gun on the table.
"Say the phrase."
Ivy looked at the money.
Her father's death.
Damon's brother.
Thousands of lives manipulated because people like Celeste believed wealth made morality optional.
"The door is gray only until you open it."
The screens changed.
ACCESS GRANTED.
Celeste smiled.
"Thank you."
Then frowned.
Balances began dropping.
"What did you do?"
"I opened the door."
Ivy had not transferred the money to Celeste.
Arthur's final command automatically distributed identified stolen funds into escrow accounts connected to their documented legitimate owners while freezing disputed funds for investigation.
Gray Door was destroying itself.
Celeste struck Ivy.
"You stupid girl!"
Ivy tasted blood.
Then smiled.
"My father beat you twelve years after you killed him."
Celeste raised the gun.
The yacht's lights died.
Damon.
Gunfire erupted outside.
Ivy dove behind the console.
Celeste fired.
Glass shattered.
Damon and Rocco boarded from the north side while Faucher's men blocked the harbor exit.
Celeste grabbed Ivy and dragged her onto the upper deck.
A pistol pressed against Ivy's neck.
Damon appeared below.
He froze.
"Drop it," Celeste ordered.
Damon lowered his weapon.
Ivy's heart hammered.
Celeste smiled.
"You powerful men are always so predictable when you fall in love."
Ivy looked at Damon.
Love.
Neither had said it.
But there it was.
Written all over his face.
Damon dropped his gun.
"Let her go."
"You'd trade everything?"
"Yes."
"Damon—"
"Everything."
Celeste laughed.
"The empire?"
"Take it."
"The money?"
"Take it."
"Your life?"
Damon looked at Ivy.
"Yes."
Ivy's eyes burned.
Celeste moved the gun toward Damon.
That was her mistake.
Ivy drove her elbow backward.
The gun fired.
Damon charged.
Rocco tackled Celeste before she could shoot again.
Seconds later, it was over.
Ivy ran toward Damon.
He caught her.
She buried her face against his chest.
"You came."
"You told me to trust you."
"You are terrible at following instructions."
"I trusted you while coming heavily armed."
She laughed through tears.
Then noticed blood.
"Damon?"
He looked down.
A bullet had grazed him again.
Ivy stared.
"Again?"
"It's barely a scratch."
"You've been shot twice since meeting me."
"Technically—"
"If you say technically, I will throw you into the Mediterranean."
He kissed her.
Right there.
Sirens approaching.
Rocco complaining.
Faucher shouting something celebratory in French.
Damon kissed Ivy like none of it existed.
When they separated, he pressed his forehead against hers.
"I love you."
She froze.
Damon looked suddenly less comfortable than he had facing armed men.
Ivy smiled.
"Say it in French."
He did.
His accent was terrible.
She laughed.
"Spanish."
He tried.
Worse.
"Italian."
"Ivy."
"Come on. Seven languages."
He pulled her closer.
"I love you in every language I know."
"Which is?"
"One."
She kissed him.
"Then I'll translate."
But the war wasn't quite finished.
As police boarded the yacht, Rocco brought them Celeste's laptop.
One final file remained open.
A list of Gray Door's emergency assets.
Ivy read the final entry.
Then her smile vanished.
"What?" Damon asked.
She turned the screen.
One asset had been planted inside Cole International twenty years earlier.
Rocco read the name.
His face changed.
Because the name belonged to someone currently waiting for them back in Chicago.
May you like
Someone Damon trusted enough to control his entire legal empire.
And that person had just received access to the billions they thought they'd saved.
