Chapter 13 - The Unseen Caller
“Did you really think locking up Vivienne and shipping Marcus to a federal hospital meant you won, little brother?” the distorted voice rasped through the phone speaker, echoing hollowly in the quiet courtyard.
Julian’s grip on his phone tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. He spun around, shining his flashlight into the empty shadows of the limestone pillars, his heart hammering against his ribs.
“Who is this?” Julian demanded, stepping forward into the chill of the night air. “Identify yourself right now or I swear to God—"
“Save the tough-guy act, Julian,” the voice interrupted, dripping with sadistic amusement. “You spent your whole life hiding behind Father’s shadow, thinking you were the moral compass of the family. While you were busy playing white knight with your little cleaning lady, the board of directors just held an emergency midnight vote.”
Julian’s breath hitched. “What are you talking about? Vance Global is frozen by federal audit!”
“Federal audits freeze assets, Julian. They don’t strip voting rights,” the caller replied smoothly. “Article Nine of the corporate charter states that in the event of concurrent federal indictments against the primary executives, controlling shares automatically revert to the senior executive trustee.”
Julian’s mind raced as the legal terminology clicked into place, sending a wave of absolute dread washing over him. “There is no senior executive trustee. Father removed that clause three years ago before he died.”
“Did he?” the caller chuckled darkly. “Check your email, Julian. Attachment file 7-B. Signed, sealed, and notarized just forty-eight hours before your father’s ‘suspicious passing.’ I am the new majority shareholder of Vance Global. And your first official task as my employee is to pack your things, hand over the keys to this estate, and get out by sunrise.”
The line went dead with a sharp click, leaving only the mechanical hum of the nearby federal vans idling in the driveway.
Julian stood frozen in the center of the courtyard, the reality of the trap closing in around him with terrifying precision. It wasn't Marcus who had orchestrated the ultimate takeover; it was someone else entirely—someone who had manipulated every single piece on the board from the very beginning.
He didn’t know who was pulling the strings, but he knew one thing for certain: the nightmare was far from over.
Meanwhile, blocks away from the estate, Clara sat in the quiet passenger seat of a late-night rideshare car, staring blankly out the frosted window as the streetlights blurred into streaks of amber and gold. She reached into her apron pocket, pulling out the folded tuition stipend note Julian had given her. As she unfolded it to check the numbers one last time, a second, smaller piece of paper fluttered out from inside and landed softly on the rubber floor mat.
Clara frowned, bending down to pick it up in the dim light of the dashboard. It wasn’t a receipt or a bank routing number. It was a handwritten message scrawled in frantic, hurried ink that made her blood run instantly cold.
May you like
“Don’t go back to your apartment tonight. They are already waiting for you there.”
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