Chapter 7
While Julian shared quiet conversation in the North Denver apartment, across town in a high-security detention facility, Victoria Sinclair was pacing her sterile cell like a caged panther. Her silk red evening gown had been replaced by an unflattering orange jumpsuit, and the expensive makeup that usually masked her age had long since smeared. The stark reality of her situation was finally sinking in. Arthur, her husband, had not posted bail. In fact, his lawyers had filed for an immediate, uncontested divorce, freezing all joint assets and shifting every ounce of criminal liability squarely onto her shoulders.
The heavy steel door rattled, and a corrections officer slid a small plastic tray of food through the slot before unlocking the door. "Visitor for you, Sinclair," the guard muttered coldly. "Ten minutes."
Victoria spun around, expecting her high-priced defense attorney with bad news about her impending arraignment. Instead, stepping out of the shadowy corridor was Marcus Vance. The older Vance brother looked impeccably sharp in his tailored grey suit, carrying an aura of calculated authority that easily matched Julian's. He closed the cell door behind him, leaving them in isolated privacy.
"Marcus?" Victoria breathed, clutching the front of her orange jumpsuit with trembling fingers. "Thank God. You have to help me. Julian has gone completely mad. He’s turning the entire board against me, and Arthur has abandoned me. You and I had an understanding—we discussed the restructuring plans for the Aspen properties months ago."
Marcus did not smile. He walked slowly around the small concrete room, his hands tucked neatly into his trouser pockets, observing Victoria with the detached curiosity of a scientist examining a dying specimen.
"We had a business arrangement, Victoria, based on discretion and calculated risk," Marcus said, his voice cold and measured. "You were supposed to quietly liquidate your assets, cover your debts, and maintain the illusion of corporate stability. Instead, you staged a reckless, theatrical public humiliation of an innocent working woman at a high-profile charity gala, and you got caught red-handed by my brother."
"I panicked!" Victoria hissed, stepping closer to him, her eyes wide with desperation. "The insurance payout was the only way to cover the shortfalls in the European portfolio before the federal auditors arrived! If you let Julian destroy me, I will drag this entire firm down with me. I have the wire transfer records, Marcus. I have every single receipt linking Vance Capital to the offshore accounts."
May you like
Marcus stopped pacing. He turned his gaze down upon her, his expression hardening into a mask of pure ice. He reached inside his breast pocket, pulled out a pristine white envelope, and laid it quietly on the metal bunk.
"Those records don't exist anymore, Victoria," Marcus said softly. "My brother's forensic team secured your primary server storage yesterday morning. Everything you think you're holding over our heads has already been cataloged, encrypted, and handed over to federal prosecutors as part of our cooperative disclosure agreement. You are entirely alone."
