Chapter 8 - Unearthing the Mastermind
I didn't stay at the house that afternoon. I couldn't.
While Mariana rested in our true master bedroom—after I personally threw every single piece of Chloe’s clothing and belongings into trash bags and tossed them onto the curb—I drove straight to the offices of Vance Financial Services in downtown Austin.
Marcus Vance was sitting in his corner office, sipping scotch at 2:00 PM, when I kicked his frosted-glass door off its hinges.
The glass shattered into a thousand pieces, echoing through the corporate suite. Marcus jumped out of his leather chair, spilling his drink across his mahogany desk.
"Julian!" Marcus gasped, his face instantly turning ash-grey. "What the hell are you doing?!"
I walked across the room, grabbed him by his silk tie, and slammed him against the floor-to-ceiling window behind his desk. The high-rise view of downtown Austin stretched out beneath us.
"The police have Evelyn and Chloe," I growled, my face inches from his. "They have the forged power-of-attorney documents. They have the wire transfers to your offshore account in the Caymans. And they have the video recordings from my office study."
Marcus choked, reaching up to claw at my grip on his neck. "Julian... wait! Listen to me! It wasn't my idea! It was your mother!"
"You disbarred piece of scum," I snarled, tightening my grip. "You targeted my wife’s family trust. You knew her father left her an irrevocable land trust, and you thought you could exploit her silence while I was out of state."
"She didn't know how to defend it!" Marcus stammered, panic filling his eyes. "Evelyn came to me! She said you wanted out of the marriage! She said Mariana was an obstacle to your career! She offered me twenty percent of the liquidated estate trust if I drafted the codicils!"
"You're going to prison, Marcus," I said softly, my voice dripping with absolute venom. "Not just for the forgery. I’ve already contacted the Federal Bureau of Investigation's financial crimes division. They are auditing every single trust you’ve touched in the last seven years."
Marcus’s eyes bulged with pure horror.
May you like
I released his tie, letting him collapse onto the carpet, gasping for air.
"You have two hours before the federal marshals serve the freeze order on your assets," I said, stepping over him. "I suggest you hire a very good lawyer. Though I doubt you have any money left to pay one."
