I am stopping this wedding before my family merges with a thief, groom Andre Dupree announced, his voice echoing across the silk-draped ballroom as he pulled out a stack of bank audits.
The rage simmered beneath my skin, a constant heat that propelled me. Julian had not merely taken advantage of my misfortune; he had engineered it.
My first target was Howard DeWitt, the nervous, greasy senior accountant at Pembroke Holdings. He was a creature of habit, always taking his lunch break at the same upscale café near the corporate tower. I waited for him there, shielded by a large oak tree, the sound of Atlanta traffic a dull hum around me.
He emerged at exactly 12:30 PM, clutching a takeout bag, his eyes already darting around nervously. He saw me, and his posture stiffened.
“Marcus,” he stammered, his eyes wide. He clutched the bag to his chest as if I might snatch it. “What a… surprise.”
“Is it, Howard?” I stepped into his path, forcing him to stop. The sun glinted off the glass façade of the Pembroke Tower behind him, a mocking reflection of Julian’s empire. “Or are you finally realizing the consequences of your choices?”
His gaze darted past me, searching for an escape. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just an accountant. I follow orders.”
“Orders from Julian Pembroke?” I pressed, stepping closer. “Orders to cook my books? Orders to undervalue my properties?”
He flinched, his face paling. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, even in the cool autumn air. “Those were standard valuations, Marcus! Nothing illegal.”
“Standard? Lamar Higgins’s valuations were a fraud, Howard. A $14 million fraud that bankrupted me.” I kept my voice low, menacing. “And now federal auditors are looking into Pembroke Holdings. They’ll look into *everyone* involved.”
The mention of federal auditors made him physically recoil. His eyes bugged out. “Federal? No, no, there’s nothing like that! Everything is above board!”
“Is it?” I leaned in, my voice a whisper. “What about the $2.5 million in estate dividends that ended up in a private trust? The one you *accidentally* mentioned yesterday? The one belonging to *Maya*?”
The color drained from his face entirely. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. His jaw worked, but no sound came out. He had walked right into it.
“Maya’s private trust?” I pushed, my voice rising slightly. “Under whose orders, Howard? Julian’s?”
He swallowed hard, his gaze fixed on my eyes, then flickering to the distant street. “It was… for her future. Julian wanted to ensure her stability after… after your difficulties.”
“Stability? Or a slush fund for offshore accounts?” I accused, knowing it was a shot in the dark, but watching his reaction.
He started trembling, his takeout bag rustling. “No! It was a legitimate trust! All the funds were accounted for! You can see the ledgers! It’s all… it’s all there in the original logs.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. Maya. My daughter. My mind raced, trying to reconcile her quick thinking at the wedding with this new, disturbing information. Howard had just confirmed a substantial sum of money was in her name, routed there by Julian.
“Give me those logs, Howard,” I demanded, holding out my hand. “And tell me everything Julian Pembroke made you do.”
He stumbled backward, shaking his head frantically. “I… I can’t. I have to go.” He turned and practically ran, leaving the half-eaten lunch forgotten on a nearby bench.
I didn’t chase him. He had given me more than enough. My daughter’s name. A private trust. $2.5 million in estate dividends. It was all tied back to Julian. This wasn’t just about me anymore. This was about Maya.
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