Chapter 5 - The East Wing
The east wing of the estate was built as a luxury guest compound, complete with its own private courtyard, a heated lap pool, and a balcony overlooking the Pacific horizon. Julian had lived there rent-free for three years following his messy second divorce. I had given him the space out of brotherly duty, believing he was recovering his footing after a string of bad business decisions.
I had been blind.
I didn't knock when I reached the heavy glass doors of the guest house. I used my master key, pushed the door open, and stepped into the air-conditioned living room.
The space was a disaster. Expensive crystal whiskey decanters sat empty on the marble coffee table. Unopened mail, court summons, and luxury hotel bills were scattered across the leather sofa.
In the center of the room, packing a large aluminum rimowa suitcase, was my brother, Julian.
He was thirty-eight years old, two years younger than me, wearing a wrinkled linen shirt and trousers. He looked disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, his hands trembling slightly as he shoved designer watches and passports into his bag.
He froze when he heard the door shut.
"Alexander," Julian stammered, dropping a gold Rolex onto the velvet lining of his suitcase. He tried to force his signature charming smile, but it looked like a grotesque grimace. "I... I didn't expect you over here today. I was just packing for a quick trip to Miami. Company business."
I stood by the entrance, my hands folded calmly behind my back.
"Miami?" I asked softly. "Or Macau?"
Julian’s charming smile instantly vanished. The color drained from his face, leaving him looking hollow and exhausted.
"Who told you?" Julian whispered, taking an involuntary step back toward his desk. "Was it Harrison? That sniveling little bastard—"
"A nine-year-old girl told me," I replied, my voice chillingly even. "A little girl whose mother hasn't been able to buy groceries because you were stealing her three-hundred-dollar paychecks to pay off bookies."
Julian let out a bitter, defensive laugh, waving his hand dismissively. "Oh, come on, Alex! The staff? You're confronting your own brother over a few thousand dollars meant for housekeepers? I'm your blood! I was going to put the money back!"
"You stole four point two million dollars from Vance Global, Julian," I said, taking two steps toward him. "You forged my encryption keys. You committed wire fraud, grand larceny, and corporate embezzlement. And you did it while sitting in my house, eating my food, and pretending to be my executive."
"I was cornered!" Julian screamed suddenly, his composure breaking into wild, hysterical panic. "You have everything, Alex! You've always had everything! You're the brilliant CEO, the billionaire founder, the golden child! Dad left you the company, he left you the estate, and what did I get? Vice President of Operations? A babysitting job!"
He took a step toward me, his face contorted in rage. "I made a bad bet in Macau! I lost money to people who break legs for a living! If I didn't pay them the monthly interest, they were going to release photos of me at the illegal tables! The stock would have plummeted! I was protecting the family name!"
"You weren't protecting the family name," I said, looking at him with profound pity. "You were protecting your own ego."
"I'm your brother!" Julian wept, sinking onto the edge of the sofa, covering his face with his hands. "You can't turn me in, Alex. Mom would turn in her grave. If you call the police, I'll go to federal prison for twenty years!"
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated in my pocket.
It was a text from my lead security director, Marcus:
“Sir, we just intercepted two men attempting to enter the perimeter gate. They are armed. They claim they are here to collect a debt from Julian.”
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I looked down at my weeping, broken brother sitting on the couch.
The storm hadn't just arrived. It was inside my gates.
