Chapter 4
Evelyn Vance sat before the ornate vanity mirror in the master bedroom, her fingers trembling as she pressed a cool, damp cloth against a bruised elbow she had sustained during her fall. The sparkling silver gown lay discarded on the plush carpet like a pile of dead leaves, stained with a smudge of gray floor wax near the hem.
The glittering diamond necklace had been tossed carelessly onto the glass tabletop, beside an open bottle of vintage perfume that smelled suffocatingly sweet. Her reflection in the mirror showed a woman whose composure was entirely unraveled. Her mascara had smudged slightly under her eyes, and her hair, usually coiffed to absolute perfection, fell in messy strands around her shoulders.
The heavy oak door creaked open, and Julian stepped into the room. He did not knock, nor did he offer any apology for the violence of his previous actions. He simply stood in the doorway, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his tailored trousers, watching her with a clinical, detached curiosity.
"You ruined my dress," Evelyn said, her voice shaking with suppressed rage as she stared at him through the mirror. "That gown was custom-made in Milan. It cost more than most people earn in a year."
"You ruined my mother's dignity," Julian replied evenly, his voice devoid of any warmth. "I’d say you got off lightly."
Evelyn spun around on the velvet stool, her eyes flashing with sudden fury. "You humiliated me in front of the staff! After everything I’ve done to keep this family afloat while you buried your nose in corporate spreadsheets! I modernized our portfolio, I brought in investors, and you treat me like an intruder in my own home because your mother wants to live in the past!"
"Your 'modernization' involved forging my mother's signature on property transfers and locking her out of her own medical funds," Julian stepped forward, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the room. He tossed a thick manila folder onto the vanity table, right on top of her diamond necklace. "I had our forensic accountants review the secondary accounts this afternoon. You’ve transferred over four million dollars of Vance holdings into offshore accounts registered under shell corporations."
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Evelyn’s breath hitched. For a microsecond, her eyes widened in stark terror before she quickly masked it with a cynical, defensive sneer. "You’re accusing me of financial crimes? Look at your own corporate record, Julian. You’ve signed off on every major transaction this decade. If I go down for corporate mismanagement, I’m taking your entire executive board—and your precious legacy—down with me."
"You can try," Julian said quietly, turning toward the door. "But the auditors are already securing the East Wing office. Pack your bags, Evelyn. You’re moving to the guest house tonight."
