Chapter 3: The Ledger of Lies
The tension in the grand hallway thickened to the point of suffocation. Marcus ignored Julian’s desperate excuse completely, keeping his piercing gaze locked onto the younger man’s darting eyes. The two security guards in the background stood like statues, their hands resting loosely near their jackets, trained to react to the slightest twitch.
"Financial papers?" Marcus asked softly, a dangerous edge of amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "You talk about corporate assets while standing in a house built before your grandfather even learned how to sign his name, Julian. You married into this family, you didn't build it."
Julian’s face flushed a deep, mottled crimson. The reminder of his lower social standing before the marriage always struck a raw nerve, but right now, it was mixed with sheer, unadulterated terror. He glanced sideways at Clara, whose makeup was beginning to crack under the harsh light of the crystal chandelier, her eyes begging him not to mention the offshore accounts they had spent the last six months setting up together.
"Ask her about the trust," Julian insisted, pointing a trembling finger down at Elena. "She’s been transferring Vance Holdings capital into an unregistered shell corporation based out of the Caymans. I have the printouts in my study. Clara saw them too."
All heads turned toward Clara. The blonde woman in the gold satin dress visibly flinched as multiple pairs of eyes fixed upon her. She swallowed hard, her tongue darting out to wet her dry lips. For a second, she looked as though she might bolt down the corridor, but the security guard nearest the front doors casually shifted his weight, cutting off her path.
"I... I don't know anything about shell corporations, Julian," Clara lied smoothly, though her voice shook on the final syllable. She looked directly at Marcus, batting her eyelashes with practiced helplessness. "Marcus, you know me. I’m just a family friend. Julian showed me some papers yesterday, but I couldn't make heads or tails of them. He was acting very erratic."
Julian’s jaw dropped. He stared at Clara in absolute betrayal. "You helped me compile those files! You’re the one who found the Swiss routing numbers!"
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"That is enough," Marcus interrupted, his voice cutting through their petty bickering like a guillotine. He knelt down beside Elena, his imposing demeanor instantly softening as he gently placed a warm hand over her uninjured shoulder. "Can you stand, El?"
Elena nodded, wincing slightly as she used the banister to leverage herself upright. Her bare feet touched the cold marble, and she pulled her white pleated dress down around her legs. "I can stand, Marcus. But we aren't leaving until the truth about those accounts is laid out in the open."
