He Accused Me Of Being A Gold Digger, Then I Bought His Shipyard With Sunken Treasure!
Previously: He called me a treasure hunter, but I found a fortune he could only dream of. Now, the tables have turned, and he's begging for a job.
The Reckoning
Armand’s attempt to assert dominance escalated. He reached out, intending to shove Elena aside, a final, crude gesture of dismissal. But Elena was faster. With lightning-quick reflexes honed by years of working with heavy gear in treacherous conditions, she intercepted his wrist. Her grip was like iron. In a swift, brutal motion, she twisted his arm, forcing him down against the Formica table with a sickening crunch. A sharp gasp of shock escaped Armand as pain flashed across his face. Before he could recover, Elena slammed her heavy, dripping sea-pack onto the table. The deafening metallic thud shattered the diner’s fragile peace, sending glass shards from the sugar dispenser spinning across the floor. The raw power of the impact, the sheer force of her controlled fury, left Armand stunned.
"Touch me again, Dubois, and I feed your manicured hands to the harbor crabs."
Her voice was quiet, but it carried a lethal steel that chilled Armand to the bone. His eyes bulged, wide with a fear he hadn’t known in years. Blood drained from his face, and sweat beaded on his temple. He was no longer in control; he was prey. Elena’s calloused hands moved with practiced efficiency, ripping open the soaked canvas and salt-crusted burlap. The contents were revealed: a magnificent 17th-century Spanish royal monstrance, its solid gold surface blindingly radiant under the diner's flashing neon. Deep-green Colombian emeralds, large as pigeon eggs, were encrusted in its hand-hammered sunburst halo. It was a sight of unimaginable beauty and value, a treasure pulled from the crushing depths of the ocean.
"Eighty million dollars of Carlos II galleon gold, raised from forty fathoms while your toy yacht hid in the marina."
Armand’s lower lip parted in disbelieving horror. He tried to speak, to form a denial, but only a dry, choked swallow escaped his throat. The smugness was gone, replaced by a stark, naked terror. Elena had not only found the treasure; she had brought it here, to him, as undeniable proof of her success and his abject failure. The power dynamic had irrevocably shifted. He was no longer the predator; he was the one trapped, his world about to be claimed by the very woman he had so arrogantly dismissed.
”He was no longer the predator; he was the one trapped, his world about to be claimed by the very woman he had so arrogantly dismissed.