Chapter 8
Victoria stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, sipping her morning tea while watching the police cruisers pull away from the building’s main entrance below. The morning sun was struggling to pierce through the heavy gray overcast, casting a sickly yellow hue across the expensive modern art lining the walls. Beatrice sat behind the mahogany desk, rubbing her temples as she stared at the flashing red light of her private terminal.
"The board has called an emergency quorum for noon," Beatrice said, her voice brittle with suppressed panic. "They’re voting to strip Julian of his CEO title and freeze all family assets pending the federal investigation."
"Let them vote," Victoria replied without turning around. "Julian brought this upon himself the moment he thought he could outsmart the syndicate. He was always too impatient to build anything that lasted."
"And Amy?" Beatrice asked, looking up sharply. "She’s gone to Judge Harrison with the complete ledger of the family’s offshore accounts. If those documents become public record, the syndicate won't just lose the company—we’ll lose everything, down to the last estate."
Victoria finally turned away from the window, her gold dress catching the pale morning light as she walked slowly toward the desk. "Amy is fighting for her survival, Beatrice. But she doesn't realize she’s holding a grenade with the pin already pulled. If she destroys Julian completely, the federal investigators will dig deep enough to uncover our involvement as well."
"Then we need to find her before Julian’s lawyers do," Beatrice said, standing up with a sudden, resolute urgency. "If Julian goes down, he will take everyone in this room with him. He’s already instructed his private investigators to track the mobile ping from her burner phone."
"Too late," a calm, chilling voice announced from the doorway.
They both turned to see Marcus standing in the private elevator foyer, flanked by two armed federal marshals in dark tactical vests. He held a leather-bound briefcase in his left hand, his expression entirely devoid of emotion.
"Marcus?" Beatrice gasped, taking a step back. "What is the meaning of this intrusion? This is private property."
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"Not anymore, Mrs. Sterling," Marcus replied smoothly, stepping into the room and placing the briefcase squarely on the mahogany desk. "By order of the federal bankruptcy court and Judge Harrison’s emergency injunction, this penthouse, along with all associated assets, is now under judicial receivership."
Victoria’s eyes narrowed instantly, her calm facade cracking for the first time. "You were never just Amy’s old college friend, were you?"
