Chapter 3 - The Uninvited GuestThe knocking at the private elevator foyer grew louder, more insistent, accompanied by the muffled sound of estate security arguing with someone outside.
“Stay here,” I ordered Sloan, my voice dropping into the cold, commanding register I reserved for hostile boardrooms. I placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder before striding out of the kitchen toward the grand foyer.
As I approached the private elevator doors, I could hear my head of security, Vance, raising his voice.
“Sir, you cannot enter this property without an appointment or prior authorization from Mr. Vance. Step back from the threshold immediately.”
“Save your breath, rent-a-cop,” a smooth, chillingly familiar voice sneered from the other side of the glass doors. “Tell Vincent his estranged business partner wants a word about marital assets.”
I pressed the biometric panel, and the heavy glass elevator doors slid open with a soft hiss.
Standing in the foyer was Julian Thorne—my former college classmate, my former senior vice president at Vance Global, and the man I had fired and permanently severed ties with two years ago after discovering he was embezzling subsidiary funds and leaking proprietary trade secrets to our primary competitors.
Julian wore a bespoke Italian wool suit, his silver-rimmed glasses catching the morning light, a smug, venomous smile plastered across his handsome face. He brushed past my security guard like he owned the building.
“Vincent,” Julian greeted smoothly, spreading his arms mockingly. “Look at you. Still hiding out in your glass fortress while the world burns.”
I didn't move an inch. I blocked the hallway leading back toward the master suite and kitchen, keeping my posture rigid and my eyes locked onto his.
“You’re trespassing, Julian,” I said quietly, each word carrying the lethal weight of a loaded weapon. “Security will drag you out of this building in thirty seconds if you don’t turn around right now.”
Julian chuckled, adjusting his cuffs. “Is that any way to greet an old friend? Especially when I came all this way to check on your lovely wife… or should I say, your ex-wife?”
My blood ran cold. The casual mention of Sloan sent a violent spike of adrenaline through my nervous system.
“How do you know Sloan is here?” I demanded, stepping closer until I towered over him.
Julian’s smile widened, reaching his cold, calculating eyes. “Oh, Vincent. You really have no idea what’s been happening behind your back while you were flying around the globe chasing international mergers, do you? You thought you divorced her because you felt ‘trapped.’ But you didn't see the pressure she was under. You didn't see who was waiting in the wings when you walked out the door.”
A sickening realization began to form in my mind, but before I could process it, Sloan’s footsteps echoed sharply down the hallway behind me.
She walked into the foyer, her face pale, holding Willa wrapped tightly in her arms. Her eyes locked onto Julian with pure, unadulterated loathing.
“Julian,” Sloan said, her voice shaking but fiercely resolute. “Leave us alone.”
Julian turned his gaze toward her, his expression softening into something sickeningly affectionate. “Now, is that any way to talk to the man who kept you safe when your billionaire husband abandoned you to rot in an empty apartment?”
I whipped my head around to look at Sloan. “What is he talking about?”
Sloan closed her eyes for a brief second, tears leaking down her cheeks. “Vincent… Julian isn't just an embezzler. When he left Vance Global, he didn't just disappear. He systematically targeted me while you were divorcing me.”
Julian stepped forward, raising his hands defensively. “Come on, Sloan, don’t paint me as the villain. I offered her comfort. I offered her shelter when you cut her off from your credit cards. And more importantly, Vincent…”
Julian paused, his smile turning razor-sharp.
“…I was there for her when she was pregnant.”
The air was sucked entirely out of the penthouse.
I stared at Julian, then back at Sloan, my mind violently rejecting the implication, yet paralyzed by the horrific math of the timeline.
“What did you just say?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the HVAC system.
May you like
Julian leaned in closer, dropping his voice to a venomous whisper that only I could hear.
“I said, check the DNA, Vincent. Because that baby you think is yours? Might not be a Vance at all.”
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