Vincent Adler White Collar Novels & Stories

Adrian’s POV The office was quiet, the ticking of the clock the only sound that filled the room as I leaned back in my chair. I had booked the entire top floor of my building for this meeting. We couldn’t afford any slip-ups. I wasn’t about to let Camille slip through my fingers again. Vincent sat across from me, his arms crossed, his gaze shifting toward the door every few seconds. “You sure about this guy?” he muttered, his brow furrowed. “Hackers aren’t exactly the most trustworthy lot.”

C. Voss Capital. Adrian put the file back. He looked at Elena. Adrian said, “They lied.” Three words. He walked out. Elena stood in the dark for a long time. --- *Sunday | 6:00pm | Calling Agent Cole* Elena called Agent Cole. Elena said, “I need you to look at the Blackstone sign-in sheet again. The original. Not the copy.” Agent Cole said, “Why?” Elena said, “Look at the bottom. The initials. V.C.”

Silence settled between them. Then Adrian said, “There’s more.” Of course, there was. He tapped the screen again, pulling up a second article this one from a more aggressive outlet. The headline made Clara’s stomach drop. VALE CONSULTANT LINKS TO RIVAL FIRM RAISE QUESTIONS OF CONFLICT Her gaze snapped up. “That’s a lie.” “It’s worse,” Adrian said. “It’s a half-truth.” Her breath slowed. “Which half?” “They’re referencing your old advisory work. The one you disclosed. The one that ended before you joined us.”

Police cuffed Britney's hands and assisted her to the back of their patrol car. Ed, our head bodyguard, showed up holding the driver of the first car that almost hit Mason. My eyes squinted because he looked familiar. "Sir. I think he is Ms. White’s accomplice. He's the VP for finance you fired earlier for colluding with your Uncle." I shook my head to shake off the daze that assailed me momentarily and stared at the man. "I don't know what you are talking about. I am not Ms. White's accomplice." He cried, denying the allegation.

Hunter’s nostrils flared, a primal possessiveness stirring within him. “Who is he?” he demanded, his voice tight with barely suppressed fury. The agent answered quickly, efficiently. “Adrian Wells, he works in the financial department of Starlink. He also works in journalism, consultant for whistleblower cases, mostly focusing on corruption and corporate crimes.” Hunter’s brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and a growing unease. A journalist? What was Evelyn involved in that required the services of someone like this?

Colt spent the ride to the airport on his tablet pulling every scrap of intel on Adrian Wilder Corporation we had. “They’re lean,” he said. “Aggressive. New money. Adrian himself is thirty-five, ex-special forces, turned corporate raider. Likes to play dirty.” “Great,” I muttered. We made it through security with minutes to spare. First class, courtesy of Nikolai’s panic booking. The flight attendant barely had time to offer champagne before we were taxiing. Colt reclined his seat and closed his eyes. “Wake me when we land or when the plane crashes, whichever comes first.”

"I didn't undermine you, Father. I pointed out a four-million-dollar discrepancy in the zoning allocations. If the board had approved those figures without a secondary audit, we would have walked straight into an SEC compliance trap." Lawrence slammed his palm down on the polished wood of the desk. The sharp crack echoed through the cavernous office like a gunshot. "You questioned my authority!" Lawrence roared, stepping closer, his imposing frame towering over Adrian. "You sat at my table, wearing my name, funded by my empire, and you played the corporate whistleblower for a room full of jackals who are just waiting for me to show a single sign of weakness! Have you completely lost your min

~Damien's POV~ I found the man in a parking garage two blocks from Blackwood's downtown offices, waiting by his car with the particular unhurried confidence of someone who had never once in his career been made to answer for anything, the confidence of a man who had spent years learning that other people always cleaned up his messes for him. Marcus Whitfield. Adrian's head of corporate strategy, a name I had pulled off three years of conference attendee lists before finally matching a face to it, and the kind of executive who existed specifically to keep his boss's hands clean.

"Honestly, I should thank you. You handed Dr. Whitmore to me yourself." Adrian shook with fury, the finger he pointed at me trembling uncontrollably. "You... you vicious snake. I'll make you pay." I gave a cold laugh and hit back without mercy. "You'd better worry about your creditors first." Just then, Adrian's phone rang. He answered, and the color drained from his face. "Mr. Vance, the bank petitioned the court and they've frozen and seized the assets." "The shareholders reported you for embezzlement and misappropriating funds. The police are on their way."

"Julian Vance. I remember his name from the old society columns before he vanished. The two of you used to own this city." "We were partners," Adrian said, his voice darkening as he looked at the photo. "Until he decided he wanted to be the sole king. He tried to orchestrate an undercover coup to take over Whitmore Enterprises from the inside out while my father was sick. He thought I wouldn't find out. When I did, I ruined him. I forced him out of the country and told him if he ever showed his face in New York again, I’d ensure he spent the rest of his life in a federal cell."