Chapter 4 - THE DAWN OF DESTRUCTION
Julian woke up to the sound of his phone vibrating incessantly.
He groaned,
rolling over in the king-sized bed.
It was 6:00 AM.
He picked up the device,
ready to bark at his assistant.
He didn't see an assistant.
He saw an email alert from the Wall Street Journal.
"BREAKING: VANCE ENTERPRISES LINKED TO OFFSHORE MONEY LAUNDERING SCHEME."
His blood ran cold.
He sat up,
fumbling with the screen.
He clicked the link.
The article detailed specific account numbers,
transaction dates,
and shell companies he thought were untraceable.
How?
He threw the phone across the room.
He scrambled out of bed,
rushing to his office.
He turned on his Bloomberg terminal.
The stocks were plummeting.
Vance Enterprises was in a freefall.
He grabbed his landline.
"Get me the legal team!"
he screamed into the receiver.
His head of PR answered,
his voice trembling.
"Julian,
we have a problem.
The SEC is already at the office.
They have a warrant."
"A warrant for what?"
Julian roared.
"They’re seizing the records,
Julian!
They say there’s a whistleblower."
"Who?"
Julian’s voice was a dangerous whisper.
"We don’t know.
But the documents they have...
they’re original.
They have your signature on every page."
Julian slammed the phone down.
He walked to the window,
looking out at the city that usually bowed to him.
It suddenly felt like a cage.
He needed money.
He needed to liquidate the assets.
He ran to the safe.
He spun the dial.
He opened the door.
He reached for the drive.
He pulled out the flash drive.
He plugged it into his laptop.
Nothing.
Empty.
Zero bytes.
The realization hit him like a physical blow.
Evelyn.
The thought was impossible,
yet it was the only explanation.
She had taken it.
He checked the closet.
Her bags were gone.
He checked the drawers.
Her jewelry was gone.
She hadn't just left.
She had looted him.
He felt a surge of panic,
an emotion he had spent his life suppressing.
He dialed her number.
It went straight to voicemail.
"Evelyn,"
he snarled into the recording.
"You think you’ve won?
I will destroy you.
I will find you,
and I will make you regret the day you ever met me."
He threw the phone.
It smashed against the wall,
shattering into pieces.
He stood in the middle of the room,
the golden boy of Wall Street,
suddenly a pauper in a suit.
The walls seemed to be closing in.
He needed a drink.
He walked to the bar,
his hands shaking uncontrollably.
He poured the scotch.
He drank it straight.
The burn did nothing to calm the fire of his fear.
He was Julian Vance.
He was untouchable.
Or so he thought.
Somewhere in the city,
May you like
Evelyn was watching the ticker.
And she was smiling.
