Chapter 7 - Audits and Old Ghosts
Morning broke with a thin, pale glare filtering through the rain-streaked windows of the penthouse. I sat at the granite kitchen island, feeding Grace a small jar of mashed fruit while watching the distant spires of the Caruso Tower pierce the cloud cover. The apartment was utterly still. Dominic had already left for the office before dawn, having issued strict instructions to his personal detail that no one was to enter or leave the premises without his direct authorization.
My phone, resting quietly beside my coffee cup, buzzed softly against the stone. It was an encrypted text from an unknown local number. *Audit initiated. Vance's accounts frozen pending review. Stay inside.*
I let out a long breath, my fingers tracing the silver pendant resting against Grace's peach-orange dress. The metal was cool, stamped with the intricate geometric figure Julian had spent months designing before the board stripped him of his executive title. He used to tell me that true power wasn't held in boardrooms or bank vaults, but in the quiet spaces where people forgot to look. Now, that philosophy was the only thing keeping us alive.
Around midday, the private elevator chimed. I froze, my hand hovering over Grace's back as heavy footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor. A moment later, Dominic appeared in the archway, his beige jacket discarded, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked exhausted, dark circles shadowing his eyes, but there was a sharp, focused energy in his posture.
"The board audit is underway," he announced without preamble, walking over to pour himself a glass of water from the fridge. "Vance tried to call an emergency vote an hour ago, claiming I was acting outside my authority. I played him the security recording from the legacy server. He turned white as a sheet."
"Did he confess?" I asked, stepping away from the island.
"Men like Marcus Vance don't confess; they hire expensive lawyers and wait for a window to strike," Dominic said, setting the glass down hard enough to make the ice clink. He looked at Grace, who was now babbling happily and reaching out toward his silver wristwatch. A slow, reluctant softening crossed his features. He knelt down beside the high chair, letting the baby grab his finger with her tiny hand. "He thinks we're looking at corporate embezzlement. He doesn't know about the cabin yet."
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"The cabin?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.
"Julian's old retreat upstate," Dominic said, looking up at me, his gaze locking onto mine with absolute intensity. "The weekend before he disappeared, he transferred the deed to an independent trust. If there's hard evidence of what Vance did to him, it's hidden out there in the pines."
