Chapter 7 - The Town Car Ride
The autumn wind whipped around my white lace wedding dress as I stepped out of the precinct doors, flanked by my court-appointed lawyer. Parked at the curb was a sleek black town car, its tinted windows reflecting the flashing neon lights of the city. The rear door clicked open, and Julian’s face appeared from the shadows inside, illuminated by the soft dashboard light. He was still wearing his black tuxedo, though the white boutonniere was gone, replaced by a simple silver lapel pin.
“Get in, Sarafina,” Julian said quietly, his voice devoid of the warmth he had faked for years, yet lacking any outward malice. It was the voice of a cold, calculating stranger.
I hesitated on the pavement, my breath pluming in the cool air. Marcus gently nudged my elbow.
“Go on. Fighting the bond conditions right now will only keep you locked in a holding cell,” Marcus murmured under his breath.
I climbed into the back seat, pulling my heavy wedding dress tightly around me to avoid touching Julian. The door shut with a heavy, isolating thud, and the town car glided smoothly away from the curb into the midnight traffic.
For several blocks, neither of us spoke. The silence inside the vehicle was suffocating. I stared out the window, watching the glittering skyscrapers blur into streaks of light.
“Why, Julian?” I finally broke the silence, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. “Why go through an entire wedding? Why make me look like a criminal in front of my mother, my friends, everyone?”
Julian turned his head slowly, his eyes reflecting the amber glow of a streetlamp.
“Because public humiliation is the only way to ensure nobody trusts you when the truth finally comes out,” Julian replied calmly, resting his arm casually along the leather seat. “My father didn't die of a heart attack three years ago, Sarafina. He was murdered the night before he was scheduled to release the audit proving your family’s real estate firm embezzled ninety million dollars from the city.”
I gasped, pulling back against the leather upholstery as if he had struck me.
“That is a lie!” I shouted, my hands balling into fists. “My family’s firm was audited by three independent agencies. They found nothing!”
“Because your father paid them off using the exact shell company that received the eighty-two million dollars today,” Julian countered, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “I spent three years tracking every transaction, every offshore account, every hidden server. And today, I recovered the funds. But I needed you to trigger the final transfer sequence, because your biometric signature was the only key left to bypass the primary firewall.”
The town car suddenly slowed down, turning sharply down a dark, unfamiliar gravel drive toward an isolated glass mansion overlooking the crashing waves of the dark ocean.
May you like
“Welcome home, wife,” Julian whispered, as the security gates slowly swung open before us.
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