Chapter 8
Julian thrashed weakly against the guards, his face flushing crimson with a mixture of rage and utter humiliation.
"You planned this!" Julian screamed, his voice echoing off the vaulted mahogany ceiling. "You and your billionaire father set me up from the day we signed the divorce papers! You wanted to destroy me!"
Arthur Sterling finally set his pen down. He slowly turned his head, his cold blue eyes locking onto the frantic man thrashing on the floor.
"Mr. Davis," Arthur said, his voice cold, steady, and terrifyingly calm. "If I had wanted to destroy you, you would have lost everything two years ago when you first embezzled from your clients. My daughter simply stopped cleaning up your mess. Security, remove this trash from the premises."
The guards hoisted Julian up by his arms, dragging him backward toward the elevators as he cursed and pleaded incoherently. The heavy oak doors slid open, swallowing him up, and the club's atmosphere returned to its quiet, sophisticated hum within seconds.
Marcus Vance returned to the table, adjusting his cuffs without a single hair out of place, and quietly resumed his seat.
"Apologies for the interruption," Vance murmured, sliding a fresh document toward Valeria. "Now, regarding the subsidiary's asset redistribution..."
Valeria looked down at the papers, but her mind briefly drifted back to the restaurant scene days ago. Clara’s mocking laughter, Julian’s cowardly silence, the glass of wine resting on the immaculate white tablecloth—it all felt like a lifetime ago. They had assumed she was weak because she chose peace over conflict during their marriage. They had mistaken her grace for vulnerability.
"Let's move the subsidiary's overseas holdings into the philanthropic foundation," Valeria said suddenly, her voice firm and decisive.
Arthur looked up, a slow, proud smile spreading across his weathered face.
"The entire portfolio?" Arthur asked.
"Every single dollar," Valeria replied, meeting his gaze steadily. "Let's turn their stolen assets into community housing and art grants. It’s time those funds actually served a legitimate purpose."
Vance raised an eyebrow, a rare expression of genuine admiration crossing his professional facade.
"A masterstroke," Vance noted. "It preempts any federal claim of asset hoarding by Sterling Holdings and completely buries Julian’s offshore defense strategy."
Before Arthur could reply, his personal phone chimed with a high-priority encrypted alert. He glanced at the small screen, and his expression instantly darkened, the lines around his eyes deepening into a severe frown.
"Dad? What is it?" Valeria asked, sensing the sudden shift in the room's energy.
May you like
Arthur slowly placed the phone face down on the tablecloth, looking directly at his daughter with grim urgency.
"That was federal marshals," Arthur said softly. "Clara didn't just try to save herself. She just handed over a hard drive containing every single communication Julian had with Robert Vance—including a signed document proving they plotted to frame you for corporate espionage six months ago."
