Chapter 12 - The Black File and the $50 Billion Lie
I huddled in the shadows of the hallway upstairs, Clara muffled against my chest, Mateo awake and whimpering softly in my other arm. Through the banister spindles, I could see Julianna standing in our living room. She wore a tailored ivory cashmere coat, pristine leather gloves, and behind her stood four mountain-sized private security contractors clad in tactical gear, submachine guns resting against their Kevlar vests.
Julianna didn't flinch at the sight of the pistol leveled dead at the center of her forehead. Instead, she laughed—a sharp, diamond-edged sound that bounced off the pine beams.
"Shoot me, darling, and my men turn this quaint little cabin into kindling in three seconds flat," Julianna said, stepping delicately over the splintered wood of our front door. "Besides, you don't want to kill the bearer of such exquisite news. You think you abdicated your throne, Dante? You think you gave up your shares to atone for your little lapse in judgment on your anniversary?"
Dante’s fingers tightened on the grip of the gun. The veins in his forearms bulged. "I signed the divestment papers. I surrendered the voting proxy to the board. I don't own a single cent of Sterling Capital. Now get out before I decide my soul isn't worth saving after all."
"Oh, sweet, romantic idiot," Julianna cooed, tossing a thick, leather-bound black dossier onto our battered kitchen table. It landed with a dull, heavy thud. "You didn't divest. The board never accepted your resignation. In fact, while you’ve been out here chopping logs and playing virgin husband, someone has been signing your name."
Dante went entirely still. The air in the cottage dropped ten degrees.
"What did you do?" he hissed.
"Not me, Dante. Your beloved brother, Marcus," Julianna smiled, exposing perfectly veneered teeth. "Marcus used your forged digital signature to funnel forty-eight billion dollars into off-shore accounts across Cyprus and the Cayman Islands. Then, two days ago, he tipped off the Department of Justice, Interpol, and the Southern District of New York."
She leaned forward, her eyes glittering with serpentine triumph.
"There is an international red notice out for your arrest, Dante Sterling. They believe you laundered cartel money through the shell corporations. And if that isn't delicious enough... Marcus filed an emergency petition in Manhattan Family Court."
My breath hitched in my throat. Every maternal instinct in my body screamed in terror.
"A petition for what?" Dante asked, his voice shaking with a fury so violent the floorboards seemed to vibrate.
May you like
"To declare you criminally unfit," Julianna whispered, tilting her head up toward the staircase where she knew I was listening. "And to claim legal guardianship over your twin heirs. The Sterling trust dictates that the children hold fifty-one percent of the voting shares upon your death or incarceration. Marcus is coming for your babies, Lena. And he’s bringing federal marshals to take them."
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