Chapter 7: The Twelve-Million-Dollar Deficit

"Is he... is he here?" The words left my throat in a quick whisper. My eyes darted to the bedroom door, my heart beating fast.

Silas looked down at his watch, then raised his eyes to meet mine. His face was completely calm. "Do you want him to be here?"

"No!" I said quickly, taking a step backward until my heel hit the edge of the glass table. I wrapped my arms over the towel tightly. "Of course I don't want him here. Why would you ask me that? If he walks through that door right now, the entire plan is ruined."

Silas didn't answer immediately. He gave me a long, sharp look, as if measuring my panic. Without another word, he turned around and walked out of the room, leaving me alone in the penthouse.

I didn't waste any time. The moment the door shut behind him, I put on my pajamas, slid into the large bed, and pulled the heavy duvet up to my chin. Holding the encrypted phone under the covers, I watched the red numbers countdown in the dark: **94:10:05:12**.

Let the plan work fast, I thought, staring at the ceiling. I need Julian reduced to nothing before this timer runs out.

The next morning, I got out of bed and walked into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. A thick, black envelope sitting on the counter caught my eye. There was no name on it. Inside was a single note card written in neat handwriting:

Switch on your TV.

I grabbed the remote control and turned the screen on. A local high-society news channel came on the screen.

Suddenly, my own face filled the monitor.

I froze, almost dropping the glass of water. It was a high-definition photo taken at the gala the night before—showing my platinum-blonde bob, the midnight-blue gown, and the grey-blue contact lenses. For a second, I was afraid someone would recognize me and realize I was Chief Prosecutor Vivian Vance.

But the fear quickly turned into irritation. Nobody recognized me. To the public, Vivian Vance was locked away in a cell. The woman on the screen was a completely different person.

"And leading our coverage today," the reporter said cheerfully, "the mysterious Swiss tech heiress, Baroness Veronica Vance, made her debut at the annual Vance Global Charity Gala. But the big story of the night was Julian Vance."

The screen shifted to a video clip of Julian raising his bidding paddle.

"The CEO of Vance Shipping shocked the room by spending twelve million dollars on a Qing Dynasty jade dragon," the reporter said. "Sources claim the purchase was a romantic gesture to win the favor of the Baroness. He is proving to be an intense gentleman."

The praise rubbed me completely the wrong way. I stared at the screen, angry that the media was painting my husband as a hero when he was the one who had ruined my life.

The encrypted phone buzzed in my hand. The screen read Unknown ID, but I knew exactly who it was. I pressed it to my ear.

"What do you think?" Silas’s deep voice came through the line. He sounded completely calm.

"I hate it," I said quickly, watching Julian’s face on the television. "I don't like the praises they are showering on him. He’s a criminal, Silas. He just drained his company's money out of pure vanity, and they are calling him a gentleman."

"It is intentional, Vivian," Silas replied. "An arrogant man needs to be built up. The higher the media puts him, the worse his fall will be. Let him believe he is winning today."

I let out a short laugh, looking at Julian’s fake smile. "Do they even know him at all?"

"Maybe not” And Silence followed. I felt a slight wave of uneasiness, but I quickly scolded myself mentally. You are a prosecutor, Vivian. Stay focused!

"What next?" I asked, keeping my voice businesslike. "He’s low on cash, but he still has his contracts. We need to move."

"We wait," Silas said. "Let the banks trigger the automated audit warning. Let him panic for a few hours. I will call you when it's time to get the backdoor access."

The call ended. I lowered the phone, but before I could set it down, the device vibrated again.

Incoming Call: Unknown Number.

My brow furrowed. I thought about calling Silas back to let his team trace it, but at the last minute, I changed my mind. If I ran to Silas for everything, I was just following a script. I wanted to see what Julian’s next move was on my own terms.

I cleared my throat, using the slow, foreign accent of the Baroness, and answered. "Veronica Vance. Speak."

"Veronica," Julian's voice came through the speaker. He sounded incredibly confident. "I am glad I could get through to you. Your security team makes it hard to connect."

I kept my face completely still. "What is it you want, Mr. Vance? I am busy preparing my morning portfolio reviews."

"Did you see the morning news, Baroness?" Julian asked, sounding very satisfied with himself. "The entire city is talking about us. We could create magic together as partners, Veronica. My shipping company paired with your Swiss capital would make us unstoppable."

I sighed, rolling my eyes. "Julian, please. A twelve-million-dollar charity piece is a nice gesture, but it is not a business model. That is not how things work. If you want me to wire a hundred million dollars into your shipping expansion, I need to see the internal metrics. I need to see the hard proof of your stability. I need to see more of your stocks and your active manifests."

There was a sudden, sharp pause on the other end of the line.

The charm instantly left Julian’s voice, replaced by suspicion. "My active manifest? Why do you need to see the deep operational routing before the final contract is signed, Baroness? That information is strictly confidential. My secondary board members don't even have clearance for those files."

My heart skipped a beat. I had pushed too hard, too fast. My mind raced to find a cover story before he grew more suspicious.

"Because I do not invest in blind corners, Julian," I said smoothly, sounding offended. "If your company is as stable as you claim, transparency should not be an issue. If you wish to hide your files, perhaps Silas Vance will be more open with his data. I have an appointment with his office this afternoon."

The mention of Silas worked perfectly. I could practically hear Julian's frustration through the line. His fear of losing the investment money to his rival wiped out his caution.

"No, wait," Julian said quickly, his voice tight. "There is no need for that. I won't send the whole file—regulations prevent a full transfer before the final draft—but I can send some parts. I will give you an encrypted backdoor clip of our primary container logs for the north docks. It will prove our volume."

I let out a slow breath, letting my shoulders drop. "That is a bit better. Send the partial files to my secure server by noon, Julian. Do not make me wait."

"Of course, Veronica. Anything to prove my integrity," he murmured, his voice switching back to a smoother tone. "I’ll see you soon."

I didn't answer. I quickly disconnected the call and threw the phone onto the counter.

I leaned against the kitchen island, burying my face in my hands as my breathing slowed down. The adrenaline was finally leaving my system.

"What are you thinking, Vivian?" I whispered to the empty room.

I had just bypassed Silas and handled the target on my own, successfully getting a piece of the data needed to destroy him. But as I looked down at the phone, the reality sank in: I was taking a massive risk, and one single mistake would trigger the execution order that would end my life.