Chapter 2 - THE BILLIONAIRE’S CONDITION
The interior of Alexander’s mansion was quieter than Claire expected.
There were no gold statues, no excessive displays of wealth, and no staff waiting in every corner. The entrance hall was lined with dark wood, pale stone, and large landscape paintings. Sunlight poured through the windows and formed bright rectangles across the floor.
Alexander led her into a library overlooking the gardens.
A silver tray waited on a low table.
Coffee, tea, water, and a crystal bottle of amber liquor had already been arranged.
Claire looked around.
“Did you know I was coming?”
“No.”
“Then why is everything prepared?”
“I live here.”
That answer was so characteristically Alexander that Claire nearly smiled.
He gestured toward a chair.
She sat.
Alexander remained standing beside the fireplace.
“Tell me everything about the Whitmore acquisition.”
Claire frowned.
“You already know everything about it.”
“I know the official version.”
He removed his jacket and placed it across the back of another chair.
“I want the version you have not included in reports.”
Claire set the invitation on the table.
“There are inconsistencies in the property records.”
“What kind?”
“Several parcels were transferred among private companies shortly before negotiations began. The transfers were legal, but the prices were unusually low.”
“Who controlled the companies?”
“I’m still tracing them.”
Alexander watched her.
“You said you came here to resign because of your past relationship. That was not the only reason.”
Claire looked away.
Three days earlier, she had discovered a payment from a Vale Global escrow account to Blackthorn Consulting. The payment had been approved with her credentials at 2:14 in the morning.
Claire had been asleep.
She had changed her password immediately and reported the incident to internal security, but no one had responded.
Yesterday, another transfer had appeared.
This one was larger.
“I think someone used my access,” she said.
Alexander’s expression became completely still.
“How much?”
“Eight million dollars.”
“When?”
“The first transfer occurred three days ago. The second happened yesterday.”
“Why was I not informed?”
“I sent the report to Marcus.”
Marcus Reed was Vale Global’s chief financial officer and one of Alexander’s oldest professional allies.
“Marcus told me it was probably a system error,” Claire continued. “He said the transfer had been reversed.”
“Was it?”
“I couldn’t confirm. My access to that account was removed this morning.”
Alexander picked up his phone from the desk.
He pressed one button.
“Adrian.”
A man answered immediately through the speaker.
“Yes, sir.”
“Lock every financial authorization connected to the Whitmore Harbor acquisition. No transfers. No amendments. No remote access.”
“Understood.”
“Locate Marcus Reed.”
There was a brief pause.
“His assistant says he left the country last night.”
Claire felt cold.
Alexander’s eyes met hers.
“Where?”
“Zurich.”
The same city listed on the registration documents Claire had found for Blackthorn Consulting.
Alexander ended the call.
Claire leaned forward.
“Blackthorn is registered in Switzerland.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“I purchased a preliminary intelligence report this morning.”
“About the Whitmores?”
“About you.”
Claire stood.
“You investigated me?”
“I investigate any anomaly connected to my company.”
“I reported the anomaly.”
“Yes, which is why you are sitting in my library rather than answering questions in a federal office.”
The bluntness of his response struck her.
“Do they think I stole the money?”
“Someone intends for them to.”
Claire looked at the invitation.
Vanessa had sent it by courier the same morning Claire’s financial access was disabled.
The timing no longer felt cruel by accident.
Alexander walked to the window.
“Your sister knows about your role in the acquisition.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Daniel knew I worked for you. I never discussed details.”
“Did he ever have access to your home office?”
Claire’s chest tightened.
They had lived together for nearly four years.
Her laptop had been in the apartment.
Her passwords were protected, but Daniel had known the names of projects she worked on.
“He could have seen documents before we separated.”
Alexander turned.
“And your sister?”
“She visited often.”
“Did you trust her?”
“Once.”
The single word carried more pain than Claire intended.
Alexander returned to the table and picked up the invitation.
“The wedding venue is owned by Whitmore Development.”
“Yes.”
“Most of the political donors and investors connected to the harbor project will be there.”
Claire understood.
“If they want to frame me, the wedding gives them witnesses.”
“And a public story.”
Alexander opened the invitation.
A handwritten note appeared beneath the printed schedule.
Claire had avoided reading it again.
Alexander read it aloud.
It would mean so much to Mother if you could show everyone there are no hard feelings.
His eyes lifted.
“They expect you.”
“Apparently.”
“They need you in the room when something happens.”
Claire’s throat tightened.
“What?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Alexander handed the invitation back.
“But we are going to find out.”
Claire shook her head.
“I can’t attend a wedding while millions of dollars are missing.”
“You can because the people who took it may be standing at the altar.”
“Vanessa isn’t capable of organizing financial fraud.”
“Never confuse vanity with stupidity.”
Claire fell silent.
Alexander walked toward a cabinet and removed a small black case.
Inside was a slim communication device.
He handed it to her.
“Place this behind your ear.”
She stared at it.
“You keep surveillance equipment in your library?”
“I keep useful equipment in several rooms.”
Claire fitted the device into place.
Alexander pressed another button on his phone.
A woman’s voice answered.
“Vale security.”
“Prepare the convoy. Six vehicles. Full team. We leave in fifteen minutes.”
Claire looked at him.
“Six vehicles?”
“The Whitmores invited an audience. We should make an entrance worthy of one.”
Despite everything, Claire laughed.
The sound startled both of them.
Alexander’s expression softened for the briefest moment.
Then the library door opened.
A member of staff carried in a garment bag.
Claire stared.
“What is that?”
“A dress.”
“I already have a dress.”
“You are wearing something chosen by a woman who planned to resign and disappear.”
He nodded toward the garment bag.
“That was selected for a woman who intends to remain standing.”
Claire looked at him for a long moment.
“Why are you helping me?”
Alexander did not answer immediately.
His gaze drifted toward an old photograph on the mantel.
It showed a younger Alexander beside a smiling woman with dark hair.
Claire had never seen her before.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet.
“Because once, someone I trusted was publicly destroyed by a lie.”
“Who?”
His face closed again.
“Change your dress, Claire.”
It was the first time he had ever used her first name.
Before she could ask another question, his phone vibrated.
He read the message.
Every trace of warmth disappeared.
“Blackthorn Consulting just attempted another transfer.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five million.”
“Using whose authorization?”
May you like
Alexander looked directly at her.
“Mine.”
