Chapter 6 - The Unknown Sender
The bright blue light of the cell phone screen illuminated the dark, bruised skin of Julian’s neck as Agent Miller forced him face-first against the pristine white wall. The phone buzzed persistently against Julian's tuxedo jacket, a low, mechanical vibration that cut through the heavy silence of the grand hallway. Julian let out a harsh, choking laugh, his face pressed sideways against the gold trim, his eyes locked triumphantly onto Elena.
"Look at the screen, Elena," Julian wheezed, a grotesque, victorious smile spreading across his pale lips. "Go on. Reach into my pocket and read it. You think the feds have me? You think a federal warrant is going to save you from what’s already in motion?"
Agent Miller pressed his forearm harder into Julian’s spine, pinning him securely. "Shut your mouth, Vance. You're in no position to issue commands."
"Read it!" Julian screamed, straining against the federal agent's iron grip, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings.
Elena hesitated, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She shifted Lily’s small, warm weight to her left arm, ignoring the way the toddler's little fingers dug anxiously into her shoulder. With a trembling, gloved hand, Elena reached across the space, slid her fingers into the pocket of Julian’s tailored tuxedo jacket, and pulled out the glowing device.
The notification banner flashed brightly across the glass, displaying a message from an unsaved number, accompanied by a high-resolution photograph attachment.
“The transfer to the offshore Cayman account cleared at 11:58 PM. The private jet on Runway 4 is fueled and waiting for Lily. If you go down, Julian, the trust fund burns with you.”
Elena’s breath hitched in her throat. The blood rushed violently in her ears, drowning out the ambient hum of the crystal chandelier and the distant murmur of the charity gala downstairs. Runway 4. Private jet. A hidden offshore account that Julian swore he had closed three years ago. The realization hit her with the crushing weight of a falling boulder—Julian had a fail-safe. Even with the FBI standing right here, handcuffing him to the wall, someone out there was actively executing the final stage of his escape plan. Someone who currently had access to the private airstrip behind the estate.
"Agent Miller," Elena whispered, her voice shaking so badly she could barely form the words. She held the phone out toward the federal agent, the screen glowing directly into his hardened eyes. "Look at the timestamp. Look at the sender. There's someone else on the property. Someone is taking Lily's trust fund—and they're heading for the private airstrip right now."
Agent Miller glanced down at the screen, his professional composure cracking for a single, fleeting second as he read the message. His eyes darted from the phone to Julian’s smug, unrepentant grin.
"Miller!" one of the backup agents shouted from the far end of the East Wing, rushing back toward them with a panicked look on his face. "We just got word from the perimeter team at the private hangar. The security gates were just bypassed from an internal terminal. A black SUV just breached the tarmac and is racing toward Runway 4."
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Julian chuckled darkly against the white wall, blood trickling slightly from a small cut on his lip. "You can arrest me all you want, Agent. But my mother is already on that plane with the child's identity papers. You'll never find them."
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