Chapter 5 - The King in a Stolen Castle
Inside the master bedroom, the atmosphere quickly transformed into an impromptu victory celebration.
Julian popped the cork of an expensive bottle of vintage Dom Pérignon that Elena had kept stored in the private wine cellar for their upcoming anniversary.
He poured generous amounts into two crystal flutes, handing one to Chloe, who was now reclining nude across the massive mattress.
“To the end of an era, and the beginning of ours,” Julian toasted, his chest swelling with unearned arrogance.
Chloe clinked her glass against his, her eyes gleaming with avarice as she looked around the cavernous master suite.
“I want to redecorate everything, Julian,” Chloe said, taking a slow sip of the six-hundred-dollar champagne.
“That woman had the most dreadfully boring taste.”
“I want Italian velvet on the walls, imported white marble in the bathroom, and I want that ridiculous nursery turned into my private dressing room.”
“Whatever you want, baby, it’s all yours,” Julian boasted, wrapping his arm around her waist.
“Everything in this house belongs to me.”
“I earned every square foot of this property through my brilliance in the financial markets.”
Martha entered the room carrying a silver tray with artisanal cheeses and fresh grapes, smiling broadly at Chloe like a mother welcoming a beloved daughter.
“You’re a breath of fresh air, Chloe darling,” Martha cooed, sitting gracefully on the edge of the chaise lounge.
“Elena was always so secretive, so distant, constantly looking down her nose at us as if she were royalty.”
“She had this absurd notion that Julian needed her guidance, can you imagine?”
Julian laughed loudly, drinking directly from the champagne bottle now, intoxicated by his own perceived invincibility.
“She actually thought that calling Evelyn Reed would scare me!” Julian ridiculed, wiping foam from his lip.
“Evelyn Reed charges two thousand dollars an hour; Elena won't be able to afford ten minutes of her time once I cut off her credit cards!”
Julian immediately pulled out his personal smartphone, opening his mobile banking application with the intention of freezing Elena’s financial access.
He clicked on the joint checking account that he used for household expenses.
A strange error message flashed across the screen in bright red lettering: ACCOUNT TEMPORARILY RESTRICTED BY PRIMARY TRUSTEE.
Julian frowned, tapping the screen aggressively.
“Stupid system must be undergoing server maintenance,” he muttered under his breath, tossing the phone aside onto the bedside table.
“Don’t worry about the money, Chloe, tomorrow morning we’re going straight to Tysons Galleria.”
“I’m buying you that Cartier diamond tennis bracelet you were looking at last week.”
Chloe squealed with delight, throwing her arms around Julian’s neck and planting wine-soaked kisses all over his jaw.
Martha watched them with pure satisfaction, convinced that her son had finally secured a woman worthy of his rising social stature.
They spent the rest of the night indulging in high-end liquor, ordering gourmet catering on Julian’s corporate credit card, and dancing through the quiet halls.
Chloe even went into Elena’s walk-in closet, rummaging through custom-tailored designer gowns and tossing them onto the floor like rags.
She tried on a vintage diamond brooch that had belonged to Elena’s grandmother, laughing as she pinned it crookedly onto her silk robe.
Julian watched her parade around, feeling like an absolute monarch who had successfully conquered a new territory without losing a single soldier.
He believed Elena was currently shivering in some cheap motel room, weeping over her ruined life and regretting the moment she defied him.
He fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, spooning his mistress on the ruined bed, dreaming of the glorious bachelor life he was about to lead.
He had no idea that sixty miles away, in a glass skyscraper in downtown Richmond, a team of six high-powered corporate forensic accountants was working through the night.
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Every asset, every company ledger, every secret offshore shell company, and every single bank account Julian Sterling had ever touched was being dissected under legal microscopes.
The trap was set, the steel jaws were polished, and the morning sun was rising over Virginia to illuminate his destruction.
