Chapter 3 - BLOOD ON THE LEDGER
The cold efficiency in the man’s posture told me everything. These weren’t hospital attendants; they were Julian’s fixers.
“Step back from my door,” I said, my voice dangerously calm.
“Mr. Belmont, Julian explicitly warned us that you might be emotionally compromised,” the taller fixer spoke, pulling out a laminated badge and a court-stamped docket. “We have legal custody of Arthur Campbell. Obstructing us exposes you to criminal harboring charges.”
“His name is Thomas Belmont,” I replied, staring directly into the fixer’s eyes. “He is inside my private suite, inside a property I own seventy percent of. If your boots touch the interior carpet without a warrant signed by a federal judge, my armed security will drop you where you stand. Jason, if you take one more step on this floor, consider yourself terminated for gross insubordination and escorted off the premises in handcuffs.”
Jason’s face drained of color. “Adrian, be reasonable. Julian is the majority trustee on the debt facility for the D.C. expansion—”
I slammed the door, throwing the deadbolt.
My father was shaking violently on the sofa, the porcelain teacup clattering against its saucer. Lucy hurried to his side, her instinct to protect overriding any lingering terror she had of the corporate titans circling like vultures.
“They found me,” my father breathed. “Addy, Julian won’t let this go. He’s closing the $22 million sale tomorrow. The moment that money clears, he dissolves the family trust and moves the assets into an irrevocable offshore shell company. That was his plan all along—to erase your mother’s bloodline from the empire her father built.”
“He won’t touch you,” I said, pulling out my phone and dialing my personal attorney, David Cole. David had been my confidant for a decade, completely independent of the Belmont family trust.
“David,” I said when he answered on the second ring. “I need you at the Grand right now. Bring an emergency forensic accountant and a private security detail from Aegis. Do not notify the board. Do not speak to Julian Vance.”
“Adrian? What’s going on? Julian called an emergency board session for eight o'clock tonight to vote on the asset liquidations.”
“He’s covering up a kidnapping,” I said coldly. “Get here in twenty minutes.”
I hung up and turned to Lucy. Her eyes were wide, but she didn’t waver. “Lucy, I need to move him. If Julian’s men have compromised the lobby and security, the freight elevators won't be safe for long. Do you know the service corridors behind the industrial laundry?”
“Yes, Mr. Belmont,” she answered immediately. “There’s an old wine cellar intake under the basement that leads directly into the subway utility tunnels on 58th Street. The staff uses it when the street gets gridlocked during parades. No cameras down there.”
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“Good,” I said. “Help me get him on his feet.”
We didn't even make it across the suite before the power cut completely, plunging the thirty-sixth floor into pitch-black silence.
