Page 12 of Certified Pressure 4
As we pulled away from the mansion, I turned my head to the window, watching the endless stretch of green that surrounded our estate. I thought of Pressure, of my grandson, and of the balance I had to maintain to keep this family whole.
There were battles waiting beyond these gates, and I was prepared for every single one of them.
The Trillmont Estate Hotel
The sun had just gone down, and I stepped out of the backseat of my Maybach, smoothing my skirt as the night breeze brushed against my skin. The hotel’s gold-trimmed glass doors slid open before me, and the moment I entered, two of my menwere already waiting near the lobby fountain. Both were tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in black tailored suits.
We moved past the clerk without so much as a glance. My heels clicked against the marble floor, as we headed toward the elevator. I pressed the button for the top floor, and when the doors closed, I could see my reflection in the mirrored walls. I was feeling composed, flawless, and utterly calm.
By the time the elevator doors slid open, the air on the floor felt colder. I could hear muffled sounds down the hall, and a rhythm of low moans tangled in pleasure. I walked toward it without hesitation. The men stayed back as I reached into my purse and pulled out a slim keycard. I slid it through the slot, heard the soft click of the lock, and pushed the door open.
Inside, the scent of sweat, perfume, and liquor hung in the air. A young woman was on top of Sterling Charm, moving in slow waves as his head fell back against the pillows. His face twisted in pleasure, unaware that his world was about to collapse.
When the woman finally noticed me, she froze, her body tightening before she slipped off him and grabbed the sheet. Her eyes met mine for only a second, and that was all I needed. I gave her a small nod, and she nodded back, just like we’d agreed.
Sterling blinked, squinting as if his mind was struggling to make sense of what he was seeing.
“What the hell—who the fuck are you? What the fuck going on?” he stammered, reaching for the edge of the bed.
I didn’t answer. I simply smirked and walked across the room, unhurried. The bar in the corner glistened beneath soft lighting with bottles lined up like trophies. I opened one of the crystal decanters and poured myself a glass of Dalmore Luminary 2022, a rare single malt worth more than most people’s cars. The amber liquid glistened as I swirled it gently in my glass.
“I knew you would love everything Trill-Land has to offer,” I said, keeping my back turned as I lifted the drink to my lips. “The views, the service, the women.”
Sterling froze, realization dawning on him. “Wait,” he said slowly, his voice tightening. “You’re… you’re Pressure’s mother, aren’t you?”
I turned around and faced him. My expression didn’t change, but my eyes told him everything he needed to know. “Yes,” I said softly. “I am.”
He swallowed hard, his chest rising and falling. “What do you want from me?”
“I want your daughter,” I replied. My voice was calm, but it carried enough weight to let him know I was serious.
He blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if to reset his thoughts. “Kashmere? What does she have to do with any of this?”
I took a slow sip of my drink, savoring the burn before setting the glass on the bar. “She shot my son. Five times.”
His mouth parted. “That’s not—no. That’s not possible.”
“I don’t speak in possibilities, Mr. Charm.” I walked closer, my heels quiet against the thick carpet. “I speak in facts. Your daughter pulled a gun on my child outside of a hospital where his child was just born. My son could have died. He didn’t, because God still has plans for him, and I have plans for your daughter.”
He ran a trembling hand over his face, muttering something under his breath. I could see the panic beginning to set in, and the disbelief slowly giving way to fear.
“I had every camera pulled at that hospital,” I continued. “And though the footage doesn’t show her face, I had the cameras checked at my son’s estate. She was seen running in with a gun, and not long after, running back out with luggage. You don’t need a genius to piece that together.”
He didn’t speak. The young woman on the bed held the sheet tighter around her chest, her eyes darting between us like she was trapped in the wrong movie.
I leaned against the edge of the table, my tone even. “Do you know what I find fascinating, Mr. Charm? How small the world becomes when truth finds its way home. Who would’ve known how deeply we were connected had I not done my research. You see, the company you’re so proud of, Charm Strategies… it’s not yours. It’s mine.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
“You built it, yes, but only on paper. I built its foundation. The donors, the contracts and the global connections. Every politician you’ve ever worked with was paid through accounts that trace back to Seraphine House. You think you rose through talent and ambition. You rose because I allowed you to.”
He stared at me like I’d just spoken in another language. “That’s not possible. My firm?—”
“Exists because I wanted it to.” I smiled faintly, though there was no humor in it. “Every major contract you’ve ever secured, every deal you believed you won on your own merit, came from me. And if I so choose, I can take it all away.”
He exhaled slowly, his voice shaky. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I said as I walked toward him, “that within hours, I can have every government contract frozen, every investor you rely on withdrawn, and every political client you’ve ever advised refuse your calls. Your company, your reputation, your name—it will all disappear. You will be nothing more than a cautionary tale about arrogance.”
