Chapter 8 - The Paper Trail of Treason
The ballroom cleared out within twenty minutes. The guests fled into their waiting limousines, desperate to distance themselves from the catastrophic collapse of the Dre family’s golden boy.
Arthur Dre sat by the dying fireplace, looking every bit of his seventy-two years.
I brought him a glass of water from the kitchen and sat down on the sofa across from him.
“You knew,” Arthur said quietly, staring into the embers. “How long did you know, Serena?”
“I found the hotel receipts three weeks ago,” I told him honestly. “I thought it was just an affair. But when the blueprints of the house were sent to my lawyer’s office with a threat disguised as an operational brief, I realized someone was planning to destroy the entire family.”
“Why didn't you come to me immediately?”
“Because Matthias had already redirected your digital access logs,” I explained. “If I had told you without proof, he would have accelerated the plan before federal investigators could secure the offshore servers. Marcus Vance needed Fiona to physically access the basement terminal tonight to catch the entire syndicate red-handed.”
Arthur looked at me, his eyes moist with unshed tears.
“You saved my life, Serena. You saved this company. And what did my son do? He brought that woman into this house wearing a necklace bought with stolen money.”
“He made his choice, Arthur.”
Arthur set the glass down and reached across the table, taking my hand gently.
“Tomorrow morning, the board meets at eight o'clock. Matthias will be stripped of all corporate titles, his shares will be frozen, and my will will be rewritten.”
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“Arthur, I don't want the company money—”
“You are carrying my granddaughter,” Arthur interrupted firmly. “And unlike my son, you have honor, courage, and a spine made of steel. Everything I own will be placed in an irrevocable trust for you and the child. No one will ever threaten your security again.”
