Chapter 2 - The Wet Envelope
The photograph resting in the soapy water showed a signature that made Julian’s breath catch in his throat. It wasn't his signature, nor was it Vivienne’s. It belonged to Arthur Vance, Julian’s late father, who had supposedly died bankrupt three years ago. Clara stared at the corner of the photograph, noticing the official stamp of an offshore bank in the Cayman Islands.
“Where did you get this?” Vivienne whispered, her arrogance instantly evaporating, replaced by a cold, calculating panic. She knelt down, ignoring the ruin of her green dress, and snatched the photograph from the puddle before Julian could grab it back.
“Drop it, Vivienne,” Julian warned, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous register. “That document proves you and my father liquidated the family trust just weeks before his suspicious passing. You didn’t lose our fortune to bad investments. You stole it, and you used this mansion as collateral to fund your lifestyle.”
Clara slowly lowered her metal pot to the ground, realizing she was standing in the middle of a war zone far more dangerous than she had initially thought. She edged toward the courtyard gates, hoping to slip away unnoticed into the darkness of the suburban street.
“Don’t even think about leaving, Clara,” Julian said without looking back at her, his eyes locked on his wife. “You’re the only neutral witness to this confrontation, and frankly, you might be the only honest person on this property tonight.”
Vivienne stood up slowly, wiping soapy water from her forehead with a trembling, emerald-ringed hand. A cruel, desperate smile touched the corners of her lips. She tossed the wet photograph aside and adjusted her ruined shoulders with a pathetic attempt at her former dignity.
“You think a forged signature and some bitter accusations will hold up in court, Julian?” Vivienne laughed, though her voice lacked its usual venom. “If I go down, I am taking every single asset, every partnership, and every dirty secret of the Vance corporation with me. And as for this little maid—” Vivienne turned her piercing green gaze toward Clara—“she saw too much. She’ll be an accessory to industrial espionage before the night is through.”
Clara froze, her hand hovering over the iron latch of the gate. She looked from Julian to Vivienne, realizing her simple cleaning job had just turned into a nightmare.
“I didn’t see anything,” Clara said firmly, turning to face them both. “I am just a college student trying to pay tuition. I don’t care about your money or your company.”
Julian took a step toward Clara, softening his tone slightly. “I’m sorry, Clara. But she’s right about one thing. You’re already involved.” He reached into his pocket again and pulled out his phone, dialing a number. “My lawyer is on his way, and so is the police financial crimes unit.”
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Before Julian could press call, the grand security gates at the front of the estate suddenly swung open, and three black SUVs tore into the courtyard with their high beams blinding everyone.
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