“What file?”
The woman began to cry.
“The one with your mother’s name on it.”
PART 3
The first scream did not come from Chloe.
It came from a senior investor near the champagne tower, a white-haired man who stared at his phone as if it had bitten him.
“Impossible,” he breathed.
Then another executive checked his screen.
Then another.
Within seconds, the grand ballroom that had been dripping with laughter, diamonds, and polished lies became a chamber of frozen faces. Phones lit up like warning flares. Smiles vanished. Deals died in people’s eyes before a single word was spoken aloud.
Julian’s confident posture faltered.
“What is this?” he demanded, pulling out his phone.
Chloe leaned closer, her perfume thick and sweet, her smile beginning to tremble. “Julian? What’s happening?”
Julian did not answer.
His screen showed an emergency notice from three major banks, followed by a legal alert from Cross Holdings’ private counsel.
