Chapter 4 - THE GOLD PEN
I didn’t react to the photograph.
I didn’t slam my fist on the desk or shout about betrayal. I simply picked up the glossy image, studying the date stamp in the bottom corner, and gently placed it back down.
“You think David is your trump card,” I said quietly.
Celeste crossed her arms, her chin tilted in defiance. “He has administrative access to your entire network. He knows where all your offshore accounts are buried. He’s been feeding us your internal strategies for months. Without him, your empire collapses.”
“I see.” I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a heavy, intricately engraved gold pen. I laid it horizontally across the faded photograph of David and Charles.
Celeste frowned, staring at the object. “What is that?”
“This pen belonged to Arthur Vance,” I explained, my voice steady and completely devoid of emotion. “He was my first real mentor in this industry. He taught me how to read commercial leases when I was twenty-two. Five years ago, Arthur went bankrupt and took his own life. I always wondered how his proprietary algorithms ended up in Monroe Holdings’ portfolio a week after his funeral.”
Celeste’s eyes darted away for a fraction of a second. A micro-expression of guilt.
“David stole them,” I continued. “And he used this pen to sign the transfer documents. I found it in his office three months ago.”
Celeste took a step back, her confident facade cracking. “If you knew he was a traitor three months ago, why didn't you fire him?”
“Because firing a traitor simply removes a problem,” I said, standing up from my chair. I walked slowly around the desk until I was standing inches from her. “Keeping a traitor close allows you to feed your enemies exactly what you want them to swallow.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed a number on speaker.
“Yes, Adrian,” David’s voice answered. He sounded entirely calm, professional.
Celeste smirked, assuming David was still playing my loyal servant.
“David,” I said. “Celeste Monroe is currently in my office. She just informed me that you are going to wipe my corporate servers if I don't reinstate her trust fund.”
There was a heavy pause on the line.
“I see,” David finally replied. His voice lacked its usual warmth. “She’s bluffing, Adrian. I would never do that.”
“Don't lie to him, David!” Celeste shouted at the phone. “Do it! Execute the Cayman protocol! Drain his accounts!”
“I can't do that, Celeste,” David sighed heavily. “Because Adrian locked me out of the mainframe six weeks ago. The financial data I’ve been feeding you and your father? It was fabricated. Adrian engineered fake ledgers to make Monroe Holdings believe my sabotage was working.”
Celeste went entirely pale. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
“You didn't groom me, Celeste,” I said, looking down at her. “I set a trap. I knew your father’s company was drowning in toxic debt. I let you think you were tricking me into a marriage to secure my capital, because it was the easiest way to get unrestricted access to your family’s private financial records.”
“You... you used me?” she whispered, genuine shock replacing her arrogance.
“You pushed my mother into a fountain because her dress offended you,” I reminded her softly. “Do not stand in my office and play the victim.”
“The audit,” Celeste gasped, realizing the true danger. “If the ledgers David gave us were fake... what are you auditing?”
“The real Monroe Holdings accounts,” I said. “The ones your mother, Vivian, uses to hide the money your family stole from Arthur Vance. And the money Charles used to pay off the fire inspectors twenty-five years ago.”
Celeste’s eyes widened in sheer panic. She lunged for her handbag, pulling out her phone. Her fingers trembled violently as she dialed her mother’s number.
“Mom, it’s a trap!” Celeste screamed into the phone the second it connected. “Adrian knows about David! He knows about the fire!”
But the voice that answered the phone wasn't Vivian Monroe.
It was a deep, gravelly voice.
May you like
“Miss Monroe,” the voice said calmly. “This is Special Agent Harris with the FBI Financial Crimes Division. Your mother is currently unable to come to the phone. We are executing a search warrant at your estate.”
Celeste dropped the phone. It hit the hardwood floor, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracked glass.
