Chapter 3 - The Shadow of Isabel
Deprived of his home, his job, and his money, Julian was forced to retreat to the only place he thought he still controlled: the Soho penthouse he had bought for Isabel.
He arrived at the sleek, modern building late that evening, using a spare key card he had kept hidden in his wallet. His mind was racing, trying to construct a strategy. He needed cash. He needed leverage. He needed to find out where Elena had hidden Harrison. If he could secure physical custody of his son, even for a few hours, he could force Elena to the negotiating table. He could force her to drop the financial claims.
He unlocked the penthouse door and slammed it shut behind him.
"Isabel!" he yelled, throwing his keys onto the marble kitchen island. "Isabel, get down here! We have to pack!"
Silence answered him.
Julian frowned, walking quickly down the dimly lit hallway toward the master suite. "Isabel! Did you hear me? We have to leave town tonight!"
He pushed the bedroom door open—and stopped dead.
The penthouse was stripped.
Just like the house in Connecticut, the luxury apartment had been cleared out. Isabel’s designer dresses, the artwork he had bought her, the expensive jewelry, the furniture—everything was gone.
Sitting on the edge of the bare mattress was a single, small envelope.
Julian approached the bed as if it contained a venomous snake. His hands shook as he picked up the paper and tore it open. Inside was a handwritten note in Isabel’s neat, flowing script.
Julian,
I received a visit this morning from a woman named Elena. She didn't scream at me. She didn't slap me. She just sat down, poured herself a cup of tea, and showed me your bank statements.
She showed me how you had been using company money to pay my rent—money that was now under federal investigation. She showed me the messages you sent her while you were lying next to me in Aspen. She showed me how you told her I was 'just an ambitious little assistant who meant nothing to you.'
She offered me a deal, Julian. Immunity from the federal lawsuit, a full settlement for my cooperation, and a one-way ticket out of New York. In exchange, I gave her everything. The text messages. The emails. The receipts. The videos you let me take in Aspen.
You told me you were a genius who controlled everything. But you were just an old man paying for my attention with stolen money.
Don't look for me.
Isabel.
Julian stared at the letter, his mind numb. A strangled sound escaped his throat—a mixture of a sob and a scream.
Elena hadn't just discovered his affair. She had systematically dismantled his entire life from the inside out. She had turned his mistress into her key witness. She had turned his financial empire into a trap. She had turned his home into an empty shell.
He fell to his knees on the cold hardwood floor, clutching the letter in his trembling hands.
The phone in his pocket began to ring again. He pulled it out with numb fingers.
It was an unknown number.
Julian answered, his voice barely a whisper. "Elena...?"
"No, Julian," a cold, smooth voice replied. "This is Special Agent Miller with the United States Securities and Exchange Commission. We have an arrest warrant for Julian Blackwood regarding federal wire fraud, tax evasion, and grand larceny. Please remain where you are. Officers are outside your building now."
May you like
Julian dropped the phone.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Soho penthouse, he saw the red and blue lights of police cruisers flashing against the snow-covered street below.
