Chapter 10 - Cracks in the Facade
Rain beat mercilessly against the glass facade of the Four Seasons penthouse suite in downtown Chicago. Julian Montgomery stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, swirling a tumbler of twenty-year-old scotch.
On the television mounted above the marble fireplace, news anchors were dissecting the Vance family scandal. A leaked clip of the gala incident—where Ethan had ripped the chain from Vanessa’s grasp and had her dragged out in handcuffs—was looping silently with the banner: *BILLIONAIRE HEIRESS ABUSE SCANDAL: CHARGES EXPANDED TO FEDERAL LEVEL.*
The door behind him opened. His private security consultant, a towering man named Graves, stepped into the room, looking visibly agitated.
"We have a problem, sir," Graves said bluntly.
Julian didn't turn around. "Did Vanessa keep her mouth shut?"
"No," Graves replied. "Ethan Vance visited her at Cook County two hours ago. Immediately after he left, federal agents raided Keller’s offshore accounts in Miami. Marcus Sterling just filed an emergency petition with the Delaware Chancery Court to freeze all trusts associated with your shell entities."
Julian took a slow sip of his scotch, his jaw tightening. "That little social-climbing fool. I told her not to push it too far on the night of the gala. A subtle scene would have sufficed. Instead, she had to indulge her personal jealousy like a common street brawler."
"The U.S. Marshals are pulling flight manifests," Graves warned. "If you stay in the country, you’ll be served with a grand jury subpoena before midnight. We have a private jet fueled at O’Hare. Wheels up in forty-five minutes to Zurich."
Julian turned around, his eyes cold and venomous. "Thirty years I waited, Graves. Thirty years watching Clara’s father hoard what should have been mine. Clara died, and I thought the universe had finally balanced the ledger. And now Ethan Vance thinks he can shield Clara’s brat behind a wall of lawyers?"
"We can't fight the feds on American soil, sir," Graves insisted. "Not with Vanessa’s paper trail."
Julian walked over to the desk, setting his drink down next to a silver-framed portrait of Clara taken during her college graduation. His fingers traced the glass over her face before knocking the frame face-down onto the mahogany.
"Cancel the flight," Julian ordered calmly.
Graves blinked in disbelief. "Sir?"
"Ethan’s weak spot isn't his money. It isn't his legal team," Julian said, a sickening smile touching the corners of his lips. "It’s that girl. He thinks she’s safe behind the gates of Lake Forest. He thinks private guards and motion sensors will protect her from someone who knows the blueprint of that estate better than he does."
"You built that estate," Graves whispered, realizing the horrifying implication.
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"Clara’s father bought it from my father’s bankruptcy sale," Julian chuckled softly, picking up his overcoat. "There are pathways beneath that stone foundation that haven't seen daylight in fifty years. If I can't take the inheritance through the courts, Ethan Vance will hand it to me on his knees."
***
