Chapter 8: The Servant’s Ledger
Julian did not flinch, nor did he look surprised to find Chloe lurking in the shadows of the East Wing at two in the morning. His expression remained an unreadable mask of calm professionalism. He simply stepped out into the hallway, pulling the study door halfway shut behind him to muffle any sound from within.
"Mrs. Vance is occupied," Julian said in a low, measured tone that carried no judgment, only a strange, chilling familiarity.
Chloe swallowed hard, forcing her voice to remain steady as she pushed off the wall. "Julian, you know what’s happening. You saw the terminal. You know what she’s doing to us."
Julian looked down at the silver tray, adjusting his grip on the porcelain handle. "I have served this family for twenty-eight years, Mrs. Vance. I watched Mr. Arthur lose his mind in these very hallways. I watched every partner, cousin, and rival get ground down into dust by the mistress’s absolute need for control."
"Then why do you stay?" Chloe demanded, her whisper sharp and urgent. "Why enable a tyrant who treats everyone like disposable chess pieces?"
Julian raised his eyes, meeting Chloe’s gaze with a depth of weariness that startled her. "I don't enable her, madam. I survive her. And unlike you and your husband, I learned early on that the only way to survive a monster is to keep meticulous records of every cage she builds."
Chloe’s eyes widened slightly. "Records?"
Julian reached into the breast pocket of his black tuxedo and pulled out a small, worn leather-bound notebook—an exact duplicate of the folio he had used earlier in the dining room. He didn't hand it to her, but he held it up just enough for her to see the endless columns of names, dates, and offshore account numbers written in neat, precise ink.
May you like
"The eighty-seven thousand dollars wasn't a random remainder," Julian said quietly. "It’s the exact amount required to trigger a federal audit under the dormant asset clauses of the 1994 Vance Trust Act. The mistress isn't just cutting you off; she’s setting a legal trap that will ensure Stephen takes the fall for decades of corporate tax evasion."
The blood drained from Chloe’s face. The luxury, the status, the emerald dresses and titanium cards—it had all been a gilded prelude to a sacrificial slaughter. Eleanor wasn't just casting them out; she was using Stephen as a legal scapegoat to protect the purity of the family name.
