Chapter 62: Paper Trails and Private Jets

The sun hadn't yet crested the horizon when the primary screens in the brownstone’s lower study illuminated with fresh green lines of decrypted data.

Damaris sat at the center console, two dark espressos sitting untouched beside her keyboard. Across the table, Marcus leaned over her shoulder, tracking the complex web of foreign wire transactions scrolling down the monitor.

Xavier walked into the room wearing a sharp charcoal suit, his coat held loosely over one forearm. Selah was right beside him, perfectly put-together in a tailored black trench coat over a high-necked silk blouse, her dark hair pinned into a sleek, low bun.

"You found something," Selah said, her voice smooth and devoid of morning fatigue.

"More than something," Damaris replied, tapping a key to isolate a specific cluster of offshore transfers. "When Mercer's office initiated that emergency liquidity request last night, it opened a temporary backdoor into Vandenberg's sub-ledgers. I didn't just trace his transit lines—I traced his advisory payouts."

She zoomed in on a series of wire transfers originating from a Zurich holding company dated eight months prior.

"Mercer didn't guess at your family trust's secondary sign-off protocols, Xavier," Damaris continued, looking up with a sharp glare. "He was fed the internal structure. Four million euros went to a private shell account in the Cayman Islands under a dummy LLC."

Xavier’s eyes narrowed, his posture hardening instantly. "Who held the signing authority on the Cayman account?"

"Camila," Damaris said flatly.

Silence descended on the war room.

Xavier didn't move a muscle, but the air around him turned sub-zero. Selah didn't flinch either; her chin remained raised, her expression turning into a mask of pure, razor-sharp focus.

"She couldn't handle being cut off from the Knight name," Selah said softly, connecting the pieces with icy precision. "She knew the intimate family history, the trust loopholes your father set up, and the personal pressure points. When she realized she had zero leverage left with you, she sold the blueprint to the highest foreign bidder."

"She thought Mercer would use it to dismantle the merger," Xavier said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "And in return, Vandenberg would restore her standing."

"Exactly," Marcus added, sliding a tablet across the marble table toward them. "Mercer bought her personal resentment and wrapped corporate capital around it. But here’s the kicker—Camila didn't just sell trust data. She gave them the original administrative access keys to your late uncle’s European holdings."

Xavier picked up the tablet, reviewing the signatures. A slow, lethal smile touched his lips—not of anger, but of complete, absolute clarity.

"So Mercer is sitting in Zurich thinking he holds the master key to my family's old European assets," Xavier said smoothly, handing the tablet back to Marcus. "He doesn't realize those access keys were revoked by the board five years ago."

"He's marching into the Zurich summit with dead ammunition," Selah said, her dark eyes flashing with cold brilliant authority. "He thinks he's going to surprise us with a forced board takeover. Instead, we let him present the leaked data, let him tie himself directly to illegal corporate espionage using Camila's paper trail, and strip Vandenberg's charter right in front of his own shareholders."

Xavier turned to Selah, his arm coming around her waist to pull her close against his side. The contrast of their shared fire and iron discipline was absolute.

"Isaiah," Xavier called out without looking back.

"Jet is fueled and waiting on the tarmac, boss," Isaiah replied from the doorway, holding two leather travel bags. "Flight plan to Geneva is cleared. We land in eight hours."

Xavier looked down at Selah, his fingers resting firmly against the small of her back. "Ready to close the book on Geneva, corazón?"

"Let's go burn down his table," Selah whispered back.