Chapter 8
The ground floor lobby of the Halcyon Hotel was swarming with news crews, flashbulbs popping furiously against the marble columns.
Julian stood near the central fountain, his tie loosened, his hair disheveled, and his face red with manic energy.
“My wife manipulated corporate records!” Julian shouted into a cluster of microphones held by local reporters.
“She used my hard-earned income from Aurelia Systems to secretly purchase equity through an offshore proxy!”
“This is an illegal seizure of marital property, and I will have her prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law!”
I stepped out of the private VIP elevator, flanked by five senior partners from Boston’s premier white-shoe law firm.
The reporters instantly turned their cameras toward me, surging forward against the velvet ropes set up by hotel security.
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“Julian,” I said, my voice easily cutting through the chaotic noise of the room.
“You seem to have forgotten who signed the prenuptial agreement eleven years ago.”
