Chapter 9 - The Fall of the Traitors
The Marshals moved swiftly. One grabbed Thomas by the arms, slamming him against the wall to cuff him, while the others dispersed into the crowd to detain the corrupt board members. The ballroom erupted into chaos as reporters for the local elite magazines began snapping photos frantically.
As Thomas was being dragged past me, his arrogant facade completely shattered, he spat, “You think you’ve won, Elena? The company is still billions in debt because of those loans! The Vanguard Group will just buy you out in bankruptcy court next month!”
I leaned in close so only he could hear. “Those offshore accounts you used? The ones you thought were so secure? Liam’s team traced them at 6:00 AM. We’ve already initiated a federal freeze and asset reclamation. The money is coming back to the lodge, Thomas. Every single dime.”
Thomas let out a primal scream of frustration as he was hauled out of the ballroom.
The Vanguard executives, realizing their hostile takeover was dead in the water, quickly gathered their briefcases. Mr. Croft paused as he walked past me. “You play a ruthless game, Miss Sterling. Your grandfather would be terrified of you.”
“My grandfather taught me the game, Mr. Croft. Now get out of my lodge.”
As the room began to clear, I saw Julian trying to slip out a side door near the kitchens. He was still wearing the same crumpled suit from the night before, looking like a beaten dog.
“Julian,” I called out.
He froze, slowly turning around. “Elena... please. I gave you the hard drive. I helped you.”
“No, Julian, you tried to extort me after betraying my family,” I corrected, walking toward him. Liam stood close behind me, his arms crossed. “But I am a woman of my word. I brought you something.”
I reached into my pocket and handed him an envelope. Julian’s eyes lit up with desperate hope. He tore it open, expecting a multi-million-dollar severance check.
Instead, he pulled out a set of divorce papers, filed that morning by his real wife in Denver, along with a restraining order.
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“You have absolutely nothing left, Julian,” I said softly. “Your wife knows everything. Your fiancée left you. And your reputation in the hospitality industry is completely destroyed. You are officially erased from the Sterling empire.”
Julian dropped to his knees on the carpet, burying his face in his hands, sobbing openly. I felt no pity. Only the cold, satisfying finality of a wound finally being cauterized.
