Chapter 4 - The Penthouse TrapThe elevator doors opened directly into a penthouse that looked less like a home and more like a fortress of glass, steel, and shadow.
The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city lights bleeding through the tail end of the storm. Inside, the minimalist decor was dominated by shades of charcoal, black, and deep mahogany.
A middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a pristine medical kit stepped forward immediately, bowing slightly to Matthew before turning her attention to Elena.
— Miss Vargas, I am Dr. Vance. Let's look at those ankles.
Elena allowed herself to be guided toward a white leather sofa, wincing as Dr. Vance gently cleaned the jagged cuts on her feet and applied a soothing antiseptic. As the stinging subsided, the heavy reality of her situation settled over her shoulders.
Matthew stood by the edge of the glass balcony, staring out into the night, holding a glass of amber amber liquor that he hadn't touched.
— You said my father’s death wasn't an accident, Elena said, her voice steadying as the shock began to wear off. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped in Matthew’s oversized coat. — Prove it.
Matthew turned around, walking slowly toward her. He set his glass down on a glass-top table with a sharp, echoing clink.
He pulled a thin manila folder from a sleek black briefcase near the desk and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of her.
— Five years ago, your father, Arthur Vargas, discovered that Isabel was systematically embezzling funds from the family construction accounts to fund a secret offshore syndicate, Matthew said, his voice cold and analytical. — An account managed by none other than Mr. Ambrose.
Elena’s hands trembled as she opened the folder. Inside were bank statements, wire transfers, and a signed autopsy report that had never been made public.
— The night your father planned to go to the authorities, his car brakes failed on the old mountain pass, Matthew continued, stopping just a few feet away from her. — And the sole beneficiary of his massive life insurance policy and corporate shares was Isabel Vargas.
Elena stared at the papers, her vision blurring with hot, angry tears. All these years, she had blamed herself for being weak, for letting Isabel manipulate her, for staying in that house out of misplaced loyalty to her father's memory.
— And you? Elena looked up, her eyes flashing with a sudden, fierce defiance. — Why do you care about Arthur Vargas? What is your connection to him?
Matthew leaned down, placing his hands on the armrests of the sofa, trapping her in his intense, unwavering gaze.
— Arthur Vargas was my business partner, my mentor, and the only man who tried to warn me about the syndicate Isabel is working for, Matthew whispered, his face inches from hers. — And when they killed him, they stole something of mine, too.
May you like
Before Elena could ask what he meant, a sharp, piercing alarm echoed through the penthouse.
The lights flickered once, twice, and then died entirely, plunging the sprawling glass fortress into absolute darkness.
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