Chapter 3 - THE SHOW AT THE SALON
The next morning, Bell & Rose was bathed in warm morning light. The scent of sweet almond oil, expensive shampoos, and fresh espresso filled the air. Clients sat in plush leather chairs while hair stylists worked their magic.
I stood behind the front desk in a tailored dark blue suit, my sharp short haircut perfectly styled.
At 10:15 AM, the glass front doors flew open so hard the brass bell shattered against the wall.
Julian stormed into the reception area. His eyes were wild, his tie was loosened, and his face was flushed bright red. He held a thick stack of legal papers in his right hand—the emergency protective order and account freeze served on him two hours earlier at his office.
"Elena!" he roared, glaring past the startled receptionist. "What the hell is this?!"
The salon fell completely silent. The hum of hair dryers stopped. Stylists froze with scissors in hand. Several high-profile clients turned in their chairs to watch.
I didn't flinch. I slowly set my pen down on the marble counter. "You're trespassing, Julian."
He slammed the legal papers onto the desk, leaning over the counter until his face was inches from mine. "You froze my corporate accounts! You put an injunction on my escrow wire! Have you lost your mind?!"
"You have thirty seconds to step back before my security guard removes you," I said calmly.
Julian let out a harsh, bitter laugh, looking around at the luxurious salon. "Security guard? In this little hair studio? Elena, I paid for your lifestyle! I gave you the money to play business owner! And you go to some cheap lawyer to ruin my deal?!"
Tasha stepped out from the back office, flanked by two large men in dark suits—private security guards Rachel had hired for the property.
Julian glanced at the guards, his arrogance wavering slightly, but his anger won out. "You think you can bully me with some papers? You're a hairdresser, Elena! You fix roots and cut bangs! I run a real-estate firm!"
"You used to run a firm," I corrected smoothly, picking up a remote control from beneath the desk. "Until three hours ago, when the board of Apex Realty received a copy of Arthur Vance's forensic audit detailing your 1.4 million dollars in forged transactions."
Julian froze. All the color drained from his face. "What did you say?"
"I sent them the Cayman Islands file, Julian," I continued, pressing a button on the remote.
Behind me, the large digital display screen mounted on the reception wall switched from promotional salon videos to a clear high-definition loop of the video I had recorded two nights ago.
Julian’s voice echoed loudly through the salon speakers: “Hold still... To remind you that you’re not as important as you think you are.”
The clients in the salon gasped. Several women pulled out their phones, taking photos of the screen and Julian's pale, trembling face.
"Turn that off!" Julian shrieked, lunging toward the desk.
Before he could touch the control, both security guards stepped forward, grabbing Julian by his arms and forcing him backward toward the glass doors.
"You forged my name, stole my inheritance, and brought your mistress into my home," I said, stepping around the counter, looking him dead in the eyes. "This is day two, Julian. By day five, you won't even have a suit to wear to court."
"You'll regret this, Elena!" Julian screamed as the security guards shoved him out onto the sidewalk. "You hear me?! Vanessa and I will ruin you!"
I stood behind the glass door, watching him stumble into his luxury sedan.
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I picked up my phone and dialed Rachel. "He just left Bell & Rose. He's desperate now."
"Good," Rachel replied over the speaker. "Because police officers just arrived at Vanessa Cross's apartment with a search warrant for stolen property and financial documents."
