Chapter 8 - The Alliance
Julian Vance’s office on the forty-fifth floor of the financial district looked out over the entire city. It was decorated in dark mahogany, minimalist art, and floor-to-ceiling glass that made you feel like you were floating above the clouds.
When I stepped out of the private elevator, Julian was standing by the window holding a cup of black coffee. He turned, looking me up and down with sharp, calculating eyes that immediately showed me where Bianca had inherited her ambition—and her lack of empathy.
"Elena Sterling," Julian said, offering a curt, professional nod. "Thank you for coming. Sit."
I took a seat across from his massive glass desk, keeping my posture rigid and guarded. "You said you had a proposition, Mr. Vance. Let's hear it before I decide this is a waste of my time."
Julian chuckled, sitting down opposite me and lacing his fingers together. "Straight to business. I respect that. Let me make one thing crystal clear: I think my daughter is a spoiled, manipulative brat, and I think your brother is an incompetent leach who couldn't organize a two-car funeral."
I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "That's quite an admission about your future son-in-law."
"Realism, Ms. Sterling," Julian corrected smoothly. "I built my empire from the ground up, the same way you built Obsidian Point. I have zero respect for people who coast on other people's labor. Bianca thought she hit the jackpot landing a guy with family backing, only to find out the backing was entirely yours—and that you had the spine to pull the plug."
"So why are you here?" I asked. "If you agree with my actions, why call me to your office?"
Julian slid a manila folder across the desk. I opened it. Inside were detailed financial audits, property deeds, and corporate filings bearing Caleb’s signature—and, surprisingly, Bianca's.
"Caleb didn't just borrow money from your corporate accounts for his startup," Julian said, his voice dropping to a low, serious register. "Three months ago, he applied for a high-risk commercial real estate loan using forged corporate guarantees from your firm. And Bianca co-signed it, thinking she could use your credit rating to purchase a luxury townhouse in the Hamptons before the wedding."
My blood ran cold. I flipped through the pages, my eyes scanning the signatures. There it was. My name, forged with terrifying accuracy, backing a four-million-dollar mortgage under Caleb and Bianca's joint names.
"Fraud," I whispered, the word tasting like ash in my mouth.
"Federal fraud," Julian corrected grimly. "If I turn these documents over to the authorities right now, Caleb goes to prison for a very long time, and Bianca goes down right beside him as an accessory to identity theft and wire fraud."
I looked up from the folder, staring hard at Julian. "Why are you showing me this? You're her father."
"Because," Julian said, leaning forward, "I refuse to let my family name dragged through the mud by a pair of amateur criminals. More importantly, I want my daughter to learn what consequences actually look like. If she marries Caleb, she ties herself to a sinking ship of debt and federal indictments. I want her engagement broken permanently. And I want you and me to make sure neither of them ever touches a dime of our respective fortunes again."
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"What do you propose?" I asked, my heart hammering against my ribs.
"We give them a choice," Julian smiled thinly, a predator showing his teeth. "A clean break with zero legal prosecution, provided they sign total waivers of liability, forfeit every asset tied to our names, and leave the state within forty-eight hours. Or..." He tapped the forged documents. "We let federal marshals handle the rest."
