Chapter 3 - Sunsets and Subpoenas in Malibu
The glass walls of my rented modernist villa in Malibu offered a sweeping, panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in violent shades of crimson and gold.
I sat on the white linen patio lounge chair, wearing an oversized silk robe, sipping a glass of rare Napa Valley Cabernet.
My phone rested on the glass table beside me, vibrating rhythmically with incoming calls from numbers I had blocked months ago: Richard’s private cell, Constance’s landline, Marcus Vance’s office line, and half a dozen anxious board members who had spent the last twelve years ignoring me at corporate galas.
I let them all ring.
A gentle knock sounded at the heavy mahogany front door of the villa.
I didn't flinch. I simply set my wine glass down and walked through the sun-drenched living room to answer it.
Standing on the porch was a tall, sharp-featured man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit. It was David Sterling, my personal legal counsel and the only attorney in Boston who knew the true architecture of the Hollis empire because he had helped me design it before Richard and I were even engaged.
"Good evening, Julia," David said with a faint, appreciative smile, stepping inside and handing me a thick leather-bound folder. "The emergency board injunction has been officially served to Richard’s legal team in Boston. They are in absolute pandemonium."
"Did they receive the forensic audit trail regarding the shell companies?" I asked calmly, walking back toward the patio.
"Every single byte," David replied, following me and taking a seat across from my lounge chair. "Marcus Vance is ready to flip on Richard just to save himself from a ten-year federal prison sentence. But that's not the most interesting part of what my investigators uncovered today."
I turned my gaze from the ocean back to David, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? What else is there?"
David opened his leather folder and slid a series of medical documents and financial receipts across the glass table.
"Remember the anonymous tip you received on your phone right as you left the townhouse?"
"Vividly," I said. ‘Don't spend the money. They lied about the twins.’
"My team in Boston traced the IP address of that message," David said, his voice dropping lower. "It didn't come from a random observer. It came from a secure, encrypted burner phone registered to an upscale maternity clinic in downtown Boston."
I looked down at the documents on the table. They were hospital admission logs, ultrasound technician notes, and private insurance billing statements.
My breath hitched.
The patient name on the medical files wasn't Brianna Cole.
It was a completely different woman—a twenty-four-year-old nurse named Chloe Miller.
And the ultrasound scans attached to the file didn't show a seven-month pregnancy. They showed a silicone prosthetic belly bump purchased from a theatrical special-effects supplier in New York three weeks before Brianna moved into the Hollis townhouse.
"Brianna isn't pregnant," I whispered, the pieces clicking together with terrifying clarity. "She never was."
"Correct," David nodded grimly. "The entire pregnancy was an elaborate theater production staged by Constance and Brianna to force Richard into a corner, accelerate your divorce, and secure a permanent bloodline tie to the Hollis estate before Richard’s financial embezzlement was discovered. Constance orchestrated the whole thing to get rid of you and install a compliant puppet she could control."
A slow, cold smile spread across my face.
Richard had traded a wife who built his empire for a fraudulent mistress backed by a manipulative mother, sacrificing everything for an heir that didn't even exist.
"How soon can we schedule the emergency shareholder meeting?" I asked, my voice as smooth and lethal as chilled steel.
"The charter requires a seventy-two-hour notice for a hostile intervention," David replied, standing up and adjusting his jacket. "Shall I book your private jet back to Boston for Friday morning, Madam Chairman?"
May you like
I stood up alongside him, looking out over the vast, dark ocean where the waves crashed endlessly against the shore.
"No need to rush, David," I said softly. "Let them sweat for a few more days. Let them plan their grand family dynasty built on lies and stolen money. Because when I walk back through those boardroom doors on Friday... I’m going to demolish the entire house down to the foundation."
