Chapter 6 - The Ghost of Eleanora
Up on the fortieth floor, the sun had fully cleared the horizon, flooding the executive penthouse with harsh, uncompromising morning light.
Seraphina stood alone in her mother’s former private office—a sprawling room dominated by dark mahogany bookshelves, Persian rugs, and a massive oak desk that had remained untouched for three years. Julian had tried to turn it into a modern glass-and-chrome trophy room, but under his rushed tenancy, most of Eleanora’s personal artifacts had simply been boxed up and shoved into the walk-in vault behind the northern wall.
She walked over to the desk, running her fingertips along the polished wood where her mother used to sit reading global market reports late into the night.
The door behind her clicked open softly.
Seraphina didn't turn around. "I thought I told Victoria and Arthur to stay in the conference room until the forensic team arrived."
"They're staying," Maximilian’s voice answered from the doorway. "I made sure the guards locked the doors from the outside. But I figured you might want a moment of peace before the press gets wind of what happened this morning."
Seraphina finally turned, leaning back against the edge of the desk. She looked exhausted now that the adrenaline was beginning to fade. The raw scrape on her right palm throbbed under the dry air conditioning, and the bruises on her knees were starting to stiffen beneath her trousers.
"Peace is an expensive commodity in this family, Max," she said softly.
Maximilian walked over, carrying a small silver tray with a cup of black coffee and a clean linen cloth dipped in warm water and antiseptic. He set it on the corner of the desk, his eyes lingering on her injured hand.
"You should let me dress that cut properly," he said quietly.
"It's nothing I haven't survived before," Seraphina replied, though she didn't stop him as he picked up the cloth and gently began to clean the dried blood from her palm. The antiseptic stung, but she didn't flinch. "Tell me the truth, Max. How deep did Julian's rot go? Was it just him and Arthur?"
Maximilian sighed, his shoulders slumping as he kept his eyes focused on her hand.
"It wasn't just them," he admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "Julian had bought off three regional directors in North America and two property managers in Europe. They were systematically siphoning funds through dummy maintenance contracts, claiming structural renovations that never happened, and pocketing the difference. If you hadn't come back today... by the end of the quarter, they would have declared bankruptcy on the holding company and sold off the flagship hotels for pennies on the dollar to a shell company in the Caymans."
"A shell company that belonged to Julian," Seraphina finished for him.
"Naturally."
Seraphina looked down at the coffee cup, watching the dark surface ripple slightly. "My mother trusted him. When my father died, Julian was the nephew who stepped up, brought flowers, and promised to help manage the burden. She thought he was harmless. A bit ambitious, perhaps, but harmless."
"Greed doesn't look like a monster when it wears a bespoke suit and smiles at charity galas," Maximilian said, looking up to meet her eyes. "Eleanora was a brilliant strategist, but she had a blind spot for family. She couldn't fathom that someone sharing her blood would murder her for a balance sheet."
"Well," Seraphina said, her voice hardening again, the vulnerability vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. "She doesn't have to worry about it anymore. Because the bloodline just got a very aggressive purge."
She pulled her hand away gently, taking the linen cloth from him and pressing it against her palm.
"What's the status of the media leak?" she asked.
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"Our PR team is already drafting the official statement," Maximilian replied, his professional composure returning instantly. "We’re framing it as a routine internal audit that uncovered financial irregularities, resulting in the immediate suspension and arrest of former CEO Julian Vance. No mention of your return yet. No mention of the assassination attempt. We keep it strictly corporate until the federal indictments are sealed."
"Good," Seraphina said, standing up straight. "Keep it quiet. I want Julian sweating in that interrogation room for forty-eight hours before we drop the second wave of evidence."
