Chapter 3 - The empty accounts
The penthouse suite at the top of the hotel was usually Vivienne’s sanctuary, a place of bright natural light and expensive modern art. Tonight, it felt like a prison. Sylvester had ordered his men to escort her upstairs, leaving her isolated while the gala below was quietly disbanded. She paced the length of the room, her crimson gown swishing against the hardwood floor.
She had to get out. She walked to the hidden wall safe behind a bright abstract painting. She spun the dial with practiced precision, her fair skin slick with nervous sweat. The heavy metal door clicked open. Inside were neat stacks of emergency cash, three passports, and a heavily encrypted laptop.
She pulled the laptop onto the glass desk and powered it on. She needed to transfer her hidden offshore funds. If she had her money, she could buy a mercenary team, bribe a judge, or simply vanish to Europe. She typed in her long, complex passcode and accessed the secure banking portal.
The screen loaded, casting a bright blue glow on her face.
Her account balance was zero.
Vivienne slammed her hand onto the desk. "No. No, that's impossible." She frantically clicked through her secondary accounts, her trust funds, the corporate holdings. Every single one read zero.
"The routing numbers were changed three days ago," a calm voice said from the doorway.
Vivienne spun around. Sylvester was leaning against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space. He had removed his tie, but his presence was more intimidating than ever.
"You stole my money," Vivienne hissed, her arrogance trying to mask her rising panic. "That is federal wire fraud. Even a mob boss can't hide a billion dollars without the feds noticing."
"I didn't steal it," Sylvester said, walking slowly into the bright room. "I simply accepted a legal transfer. The authorization was completely legitimate."
"I never signed anything!" Vivienne yelled.
Sylvester reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded document. He tossed it onto the glass desk. Vivienne picked it up. It was a transfer deed, moving all her assets into a holding company. At the bottom was a perfect, flawless replica of her signature. But next to it was a thumbprint stamped in red ink.
"That's not my print," Vivienne said, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"No, it isn't," Sylvester agreed, stopping just a few feet away from her. "It belongs to the person who actually controls your family's trust. The person who raised you. The person who gave you everything, only to take it away the second you became a liability."
Vivienne stared at him, the pieces slowly clicking together. "My grandmother... she transferred the money to you?"
"She paid me," Sylvester corrected, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "She paid me a billion dollars to come out of retirement, walk into that gala tonight, and ensure you never leave this city alive. But she made one massive mistake."
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Vivienne swallowed hard. "What mistake?"
Sylvester leaned forward, his rugged face catching the bright light. "She assumed I was going to follow her orders. Pack a bag, Vivienne. We are going for a ride."
