Chapter 6 - The Tiger’s DenThree weeks later, the media storm hit.
Julian’s high-society facade collapsed faster than a house of cards in a hurricane. When the financial crimes division executed a search warrant on his downtown bachelor pad and his shared office space with Savannah, they didn't just find evidence of embezzlement from my portfolio—they found a sprawling web of fraudulent shell companies targeting multiple investors across the city.
Savannah had already tried to flee the jurisdiction. Armed with a one-way ticket to Zurich and three hundred thousand dollars she had skimmed from a secondary account Julian didn't even know she controlled, she was intercepted by federal agents at JFK Airport before her flight could push back from the gate.
I sat in the sleek, minimalist conference room of our family’s corporate headquarters high above the city skyline, watching the news broadcast on a wall-mounted flat-screen. The headline flashed in bright red letters: SOCIALITE DUO FACING FEDERAL FRAUD CHARGES FOLLOWING HIGH-SOCIETY WEDDING SCANDAL.
The door opened, and Thomas walked in, carrying a fresh dossier stamped with the seal of the federal prosecutor's office.
"Well, Elena, the arraignment is finished. Neither of them made bail. Their assets are completely liquidated, and the court-appointed receiver is currently auctioning off Julian’s car collection and designer watches to help repay the victims."
I spun my wedding ring—or rather, the plain platinum band I had already removed and had melted down into a minimalist paperweight—around my finger. "And Savannah?"
"Facing up to fifteen years for wire fraud, identity theft, and illegal surveillance," Thomas replied with a dry smile, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite me. "According to her latest statement to the detectives, she’s currently blaming Julian for everything, claiming he forced her to participate under threat of physical violence."
"Classic," I murmured, leaning back in my leather chair. "They deserve each other."
My phone buzzed on the glass table. It was an unknown number, originating from the county detention center. I stared at the screen as it vibrated against the polished surface, the caller ID flashing CORRECTIONAL FACILITY - COLLECT CALL.
I didn't answer it. I let it ring out until the automated voice stopped, then pressed block.
"Good choice," Thomas said, watching the screen go dark. "You’ve got a meeting with the board of directors in ten minutes. The restructuring of the manufacturing division is complete, and your grandfather’s legacy is officially secure under your sole, unencumbered name."
May you like
I stood up, smoothing the front of my tailored charcoal pantsuit—the kind of outfit that commanded respect without needing to ask for it.
"Let’s go," I said, a faint, confident smile touching my lips. "It’s time to take the wheel."
