Chapter 6 - The Blood Test That Shattered the Ultimate Betrayal
The boardroom erupted into chaos.
Walter Vance attempted to argue the legality of the debt takeover, but Mason’s private legal team, entering right behind us with federal injunctions, shut down every single objection with ruthless efficiency. Within twenty minutes, the probate transfer was frozen, Julian’s executive authority was suspended pending a full audit, and the sale of the southern dry docks was completely blocked.
Julian and Chloe retreated to the executive corner office, slamming the heavy oak door behind them.
Hidden inside the air duct directly above the office desk, a high-gain directional microphone transmitted their panicked voices directly to the encrypted earpieces Mason and I were wearing as we sat in the surveillance van parked three levels below in the underground garage.
“Who the hell is that woman, Julian?!” Chloe shrieked, the mask of the fragile, grieving sister completely shattered. “She looks just like her! She talks like her! And that man with her—there’s something wrong about this!”
“Shut up, Chloe! Just shut up and let me think!” Julian roared back, the sound of glass shattering echoing through the feed as he threw a crystal tumbler against the wall. “Valerie is dead! I watched the car sink into eighty feet of water! The divers found the wrecked frame! No human being could survive that!”
“Then who is Victoria Sterling-Cross?!” Chloe wept hysterically. “The European debt was supposed to be dormant! If they audit the accounts, they’ll see the twenty-four million missing from the operational reserves! They’ll trace the transaction!”
“They won't trace anything,” Julian snarled, his voice trembling with manic desperation. “The money is in the Caymans. Vance is verifying the balance right now. Once the funds clear into our secondary accounts, we don't need the shipyard. We take the twenty-four million and catch a private flight to Zurich tonight.”
Down in the surveillance van, Mason let out a low, dry chuckle.
“He still thinks the money is in the Caymans,” Mason said, sipping black coffee. “Wait until he tries to access the digital portal.”
Suddenly, the audio feed crackled as Julian’s laptop chime chimed frantically.
“Vance? Is it done?” Julian demanded over his speakerphone.
“Julian... we have a catastrophic problem,” Vance’s terrified voice came through the line. “The Cayman account... it’s completely empty.”
“What do you mean, empty?!” Julian screamed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched shriek. “I transferred twenty-four million dollars from Sterling reserves on Tuesday night! The confirmation code was verified!”
“The transfer was redirected,” Vance stammered. “The routing protocols were overridden by an internal administrative key registered to Arthur Sterling’s original master account. The funds didn't land in the Caribbean, Julian. They were deposited into a frozen escrow trust managed by the federal bank—under Valerie Sterling’s maiden name!”
A dead, suffocating silence fell over the office. We could hear Julian’s heavy, ragged breathing through the feed.
“That’s impossible...” Julian whispered, his mind unraveling. “Arthur Sterling has been dead for fifteen years. Valerie is dead. Who is holding the master key?!”
Before Julian could process the shock, Chloe collapsed onto the leather sofa in the office, clutching her stomach and sobbing loudly.
“Julian... the baby... my stomach hurts,” Chloe cried. “We have to get out of here. If the feds freeze our passports, we’re going to prison!”
Julian didn't comfort her. He didn't rush to her side with the tender affection he had displayed on the riverbank. Instead, his voice turned ice-cold, dripping with disgusting malice.
“Stop crying, you useless idiot!” Julian snapped viciously. “Your only job was to secure the family trust through that bastard in your stomach! If we don't have the money, that child is nothing more than an expensive liability!”
“How can you say that?!” Chloe screamed. “This is your baby! You told me we were doing this for our future!”
Down in the surveillance van, Mason looked at me, sliding another document across the console.
“Speaking of the baby,” Mason said quietly. “You might want to see the results from the prenatal DNA sample my operatives pulled from Chloe’s private clinic last week.”
I took the medical document and scanned the official genetic sequencing results. As my eyes reached the conclusion line, a gasp of pure shock escaped my lips.
The biological father of Chloe’s unborn child was not Julian.
It was Walter Vance—the corrupt family attorney.
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“Julian thinks he’s the mastermind manipulating everyone,” I whispered, a dark, incredulous laugh escaping my chest. “He drowned his wife, tried to murder his brother-in-law, and stole millions, all while his own mistress was playing him for a fool with his own lawyer.”
“Poetic justice is a beautiful thing,” Mason agreed, his eyes gleaming with cold anticipation. “Now, Valerie... are you ready to drive the first nail into their coffin?”
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