Chapter 12 - The Phantom AccountI sat motionless at my custom oak desk, the hum of the city fading into a dull roar.
"Repeat that," I said, my voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that had made Wall Street veterans tremble. "What joint venture?"
"A biotechnology research firm specializing in congenital cardiology," the voice replied smoothly. "Funded by an initial capital injection of twelve million dollars, deposited from an offshore account bearing Mrs. Marrow's signature, countersigned by Mr. Vance."
Twelve million dollars.
Elena didn't have twelve million dollars. When she walked out of my life three years ago, she had refused a single penny of my settlement offer. She had built her life from scratch in Boston. She couldn't have amassed that kind of capital on a tech startup salary—not unless someone else had provided it.
And Julian, the man who supposedly "saved" her and walked away with a polite handshake at JFK Airport, was still heavily entangled in her financial web.
"When was this account opened?" I demanded.
"Two days before Mr. Vance flew to London, sir. Shall I forward the portfolio to your private server?"
"Send it," I snapped, and severed the connection.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a toxic cocktail of old paranoia and fresh betrayal surging through my veins. Had I been played? Had the dramatic confrontation at Terminal Four been nothing more than an elaborate piece of theater designed to lower my guard, cement my emotional surrender, and secure a multi-million-dollar corporate asset under our names?
Before I could process the depth of the deception, the front door of the penthouse unlocked.
May you like
I heard the cheerful giggles of the twins echoing down the hallway, followed by Elena's light, musical voice calling out my name.
"Tobias? We're back!"
