Chapter 3
The ballroom erupted into a chaotic murmur of whispered gossip as the police officers flanked Matthew and Veronica. Flashbulbs from socialite smartphones flickered like erratic lightning against the crystal chandeliers, capturing Matthew’s frantic, sweat-beaded forehead and Veronica’s mask of frozen fury.
Julian lowered his smartphone, the glowing screen fading to black. He turned his attention back to Elena, who was still kneeling on the cold marble floor near the dais. Without a word, Julian knelt beside her, ignoring the stares of the wealthy onlookers. He reached out with gentle, steady hands, offering her his arm to help her up from the spilled champagne.
“You don’t have to stay here anymore, Elena,” Julian said softly, his voice a calm anchor amid the swirling storm of accusations and flashing lights.
Elena accepted his support, her legs trembling beneath her cream-colored knit skirt as she rose to her feet. She cast one last, lingering look at six-year-old Lily, who was crying softly into her pale blue cardigan while Veronica tried to shield the child’s face from the encroaching police officers.
“Mommy... where are they taking us?” Lily sobbed, her small voice piercing Julian’s chest like a physical blow.
Veronica hissed down at her daughter, her voice sharp and devoid of maternal warmth. “Shut up, Lily. Don’t speak to anyone.”
As the officers escorted Matthew and Veronica toward the service exit, Matthew twisted his neck around, his eyes locking onto Julian with pure venom. He snarled through clenched teeth, “You think you’ve won, Julian? You have no idea what forces are backing this firm. The decree might be fake on paper, but the real estate deeds signed on Monday morning are already legally binding. You’re too late.”
Julian stopped walking. He held Matthew’s furious gaze, his expression tightening into an unreadable mask of intense resolve. He didn’t reply to the threat, but a cold realization flashed in his dark eyes.
Elena clutched Julian’s arm tighter, her knuckles white. “Real estate deeds? What is he talking about, Julian? My family home... the ancestral estate... it was supposed to be protected in the trust.”
“It wasn’t,” a voice whispered from the shadows near the velvet draperies.
Julian and Elena spun around. Standing near the exit archway was a young woman in a modest black trench coat, clutching a thick leather-bound envelope to her chest. Her eyes darted nervously around the thinning crowd before locking directly onto Julian.
“Who are you?” Elena asked, stepping behind Julian’s protective white-suited frame.
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The woman stepped into the amber light, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “My name is Clara. I was Matthew’s junior legal assistant until three hours ago, when I found the shredder bins behind his office. He didn’t just forge a divorce decree, Elena. He transferred the title of your family estate to an offshore shell corporation registered under Veronica’s maiden name.”
Clara reached out with shaking fingers, holding out the heavy leather envelope toward Julian. “And the transfer was finalized at midnight. If you don’t stop the registry filing by sunrise, the house is gone forever.”
