Chapter 1 - THE CANNON IN SCOTTSDALE
The first blast sounded like judgment.
Guests screamed.
Champagne flutes shattered across the courtyard.
A section of the pale stucco facade at the front of the Scottsdale villa exploded inward in a storm of plaster dust, broken glass, and decorative stone.
Chloe Bennett stood behind the black powder cannon with both hands locked around the firing rope, her dark blazer snapping in the desert wind. Her heart hammered so hard it felt like another detonation inside her chest.
“GIVE ME BACK MY MONEY!”
People were running now.
The string quartet had stopped mid-note.
Servers crouched behind an outdoor bar.
A woman in diamonds shrieked and dropped a silver tray of oysters into the pool.
Linda Bennett came stumbling out from the courtyard with Sarah clutching her arm.
Linda’s face was drained of color and rage at the same time.
“ARE YOU INSANE?!”
Chloe reloaded without answering.
She had spent six months begging.
Calling.
Writing.
Pleading.
Explaining.
Warning.
Now she was done with all the verbs that required permission.
She pulled the rope again.
The second blast tore into another empty section of the front guest-wing facade, sending glass and plaster crashing to the ground.
“FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS!” Chloe screamed.
Linda ran forward, furious and disbelieving.
“That was my life savings!”
Sarah pressed herself against her mother, trembling now that the performance had turned on them.
“Mom, call the police!”
Linda pointed a shaking finger at Chloe.
“You’re young! YOU CAN MAKE MORE!”
Something inside Chloe went absolutely still.
No more tears.
No more screaming.
Just a cold, razor-clean certainty.
She let the firing rope drop.
Then she picked up the sealed legal folder from the folding table beside the cannon carriage and started walking toward them.
“That’s exactly what you emailed me,” she said.
Linda’s confidence faltered for the first time.
“Get off my property.”
Chloe reached the marble outdoor dining table and slammed the folder down on it hard enough to rattle the silverware and make three nearby guests jump.
Linda yanked the silver house key from her wristlet and threw it beside the folder.
“MY HOUSE. MY RULES.”
Chloe laughed once.
“Your house?”
Sarah looked nervously at Linda.
The crowd had fallen silent now, pulled by the gravity of rich people finally being forced to listen to consequences.
Chloe opened the folder and pulled out the top document.
“Read the last page.”
Linda snatched the papers, more offended than afraid for one final second.
Then she looked down.
Her face went pale.
Not embarrassed.
Not angry.
Pale.
Sarah leaned over her shoulder.
“Mom… what did you do?”
Linda’s champagne glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the stone.
Chloe said nothing.
May you like
Because the real damage had never come from the cannon.
It had been inside that folder all along.
