Chapter 6 - The Geneva File
Silence hung over the locked suite, so thick it felt as though the storm outside had suddenly ceased.
Julien stared at the woman sitting in the armchair—the woman he had brought into his home, the woman who had shared his bed for fifteen months, the woman who had spent two years abusing his daughter under the guise of stepmotherly discipline.
"You were her handler," Julien repeated flatly, his voice utterly devoid of emotion.
"I tried to save her!" Vanessa shouted, looking up defensively. "On the night she died, Eleanor was coming to meet me at the mountain pass to give me that drive! It contained the names of every board member involved in the laundering scheme—including your chief legal officer, Arthur Sterling! Your own uncle!"
Julien’s hand tightened around the micro-drive so hard the silver edges bit into his palm.
"Arthur?" Julien whispered.
"Yes!" Vanessa cried out. "Arthur set up the offshore accounts! When Eleanor died in the crash, the drive vanished. Arthur believed Eleanor had hidden it in the mansion, but he couldn't search the house without raising your suspicion. So he forced me to come here!"
"Forced you?"
"He told me if I didn't marry you, get inside this house, and find that drive, he would release the forged documents making it look like I was the one who sabotaged Eleanor's brakes!" Vanessa sobbed, clutching her stomach. "I stayed here for two years looking for that damn box! I searched every room, every cabinet! I was losing my mind, Julien! And today... when that little girl stumbled onto it... I broke! I couldn't let her touch it! I knew if Arthur found out Lily had the drive, he would eliminate her just like he eliminated Eleanor!"
Julien took two slow steps back toward the door.
He looked at Dante, who stood with his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with outrage.
"Dante," Julien commanded softly.
"Sir?"
"Keep her locked in this room. Put two extra guards outside the windows on the terrace. Nobody talks to her. Nobody comes near her."
"Julien! Please!" Vanessa screamed, jumping out of the armchair and rushing toward the door, but Dante stepped forward, shoving her back into the room and pulling the heavy oak door shut with a loud thud.
Julien stood in the dimly lit hallway, looking down at the silver micro-USB drive in his hand.
His uncle Arthur—the man who had sat beside him at Eleanor's funeral, the man who had held his hand while he cried over his wife's casket, the man who had helped him raise Eleanor's daughter for seven years—was the architect of his entire life's nightmare.
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Julien walked down the stairs, his face turned to stone.
"Dante," Julien said into his radio. "Get Marcus. Tell him to prep the primary server in my study. We're opening Eleanor's file tonight."
