The Cartier Necklace He Bought With My Card

Chapter 3 The Gears Stop Turning

(Julian's POV)

Monday morning, I watched the city from my office window and checked the time. Evelyn’s three days were almost up.

She would be back by noon. She could sulk, but she was not stupid enough to lose her career over it.

“Your coffee, J.”

Chloe set a mug on my desk. The Cartier necklace rested above the neckline of her blouse.

The coffee was loaded with vanilla syrup. I swallowed once and put it down. “Perfect.”

On volatile market days, Evelyn made it black.

Pain tightened under my ribs. The antacid tin in my top drawer was empty. I blamed Evelyn and moved on to the next irritation.

The board expected me in an hour to explain the change on the IPO. In my private closet, the navy silk tie Evelyn had set out for the investor summit was gone. Chloe’s floral tie hung in its place.

I shut the closet. Evelyn had always handled these details, and I had treated her care like one more service I could demand.

My private line rang. Mr. Dubois, our largest Zurich investor, did not wait for a greeting.

“Do not call me your friend, Julian. My biggest competitor just forwarded the core financial strategy for your IPO. Your new project head emailed it to him by mistake.”

I gripped the edge of my desk. “Henri, let me explain.”

“She attached the wrong file. That intern is going to cost you everything. I invested because of Evelyn. Where is she?”

He hung up before I could answer.

My secretary buzzed in at once.

“Sir, three main suppliers have withdrawn the Vance-network discounts and shortened our payment terms. The contracts are still in force.”

She paused to check the notice. “Mrs. Thorne’s personal guarantees and procurement sponsorship ended when she resigned.”

The TGP ticker did not exist yet; the IPO was still pending.

Red warnings filled my screens anyway: internal cash forecasts, lender alerts, and an email from the underwriters. The roadshow was postponed until management disclosed the leadership change.

I called Evelyn. A recording from her lawyer instructed me to route all personal communication through counsel.

I called again and got the same recording.

“Mark!”

My assistant hurried in.

“Go to the villa. Find Evelyn and bring her here. I don’t care what game she thinks she’s playing.”

While he was gone, I paced between the cold coffee and the ugly tie in the closet. Mark returned an hour later and kept his eyes on the carpet.

“The villa is empty, sir. A broker opened an off-market sale file, but it’s still under escrow review.”

Mark shifted his weight. “Your belongings haven’t been touched, and counsel says your temporary access remains in place. Mrs. Thorne took only her own things.”

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

I sat down. The sale remained under review, and my belongings were still at the villa. Evelyn had taken only herself. Now the routines and business contacts I had ignored were failing one by one.

I had built the company, whatever Dubois thought. If one source of money closed, I would find another.

Only one firm had enough capital to solve the problem quickly. Vance Consortium specialized in distressed companies and turnarounds.

I needed an emergency meeting. I would beg or borrow if that was the price of getting one.

Once the company was stable, I would deal with Evelyn.