Chapter 2: The Awakening
1212 Words
"We thought you were dead, sir. Or captured." Marcus’s voice trembled through the phone line.
"I was married," Julian said flatly. "Though, considering my in-laws, capture might have been preferable."
"The Board has been in chaos for thirty-six months. Your cousin, Silas, has been trying to liquidate the Asia division. The stock has wobbled. We need you back at the Citadel."
"Not yet," Julian commanded. "I am not returning to the tower until I clean up the mess down here. Marcus, listen to me carefully."
"I have a pen, sir."
"I need access to the Shadow Fund. Immediate liquidity. And I want a file on the Sterling Group. Every dirty deal, every paid-off inspector, every skeleton in Grant Sterling’s closet."
"Sterling Group? They are a mid-tier fish, sir. Barely a blip on our radar. Why the interest?"
"They just made it personal."
"Understood. Access is restored. Your biometrics will unlock your accounts within three minutes. Shall I send the car?"
"No car. I need to move unseen for another twenty-four hours. But Marcus?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Find out who holds the debt for Vance Architecture."
"One moment." Use of a keyboard clattered in the background at a speed that suggested Marcus was working on three screens at once. "Vance Architecture... heavily leveraged. Their primary creditor is First City Bank. Wait. First City is a subsidiary of Blackwood Sovereign."
Julian allowed a cold smile to touch his lips. "So, we own their debt."
"Technically, sir, you own their debt."
"Good. Freeze it. Do not allow them to default, but do not allow them to pay it off with outside funds. If Grant Sterling tries to pay their debt, block the transaction."
"Understood. Sir, it is good to hear your voice."
"Don't get sentimental, Marcus. War is coming."
Julian hung up. He stepped out of the phone booth. His posture changed. The slump of the defeated husband vanished. He stood to his full height of six-foot-two. He rolled his shoulders back.
He walked to the nearest ATM. He inserted the black card.
Processing...Welcome, Mr. Blackwood.
Balance: [Visible Limit Exceeded]
Julian withdrew two thousand dollars in cash, the daily limit. He hailed a taxi.
"Where to, pal?" the driver asked, eyeing Julian's soaked suit.
"The Ritzest hotel in the city," Julian said. "The Grand Meridian."
"That's pricey, buddy. You sure?"
Julian tossed a hundred-dollar bill onto the front seat. "Drive."
At the hotel, the concierge looked down his nose at Julian until Julian slammed a stack of cash on the counter. "Penthouse. Tonight. And I need a tailor sent up immediately."
Two hours later, Julian stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror in the penthouse suite. The gray suit was in the trash. He was wearing a bespoke charcoal suit that fit him like armor. His hair was slicked back. The tired writer was gone.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey and looked out at the city skyline. He could see the hospital in the distance.
His phone buzzed. A text from Sylvia.
We sent your things to the homeless shelter on 5th Street. Don't come back to the house. The locks are changed.
Julian took a sip of whiskey.
"You didn't throw me out, Sylvia," he whispered to the glass. "You just set me free."
…
The next morning, Elena woke up with a headache that felt like a hammer inside her skull. The hospital room was filled with flowers. White roses. Hundreds of them.
"Oh, you're awake," Sylvia chirped from the armchair. She was reading a magazine.
"Where is Julian?" Elena’s voice was a rasp.
Sylvia sighed, putting the magazine down. "Elena, darling, we talked about this. He left."
"Left?"
"He couldn't handle the pressure. He saw the bill, realized he couldn't pay it, and ran. He’s a coward, Elena. I've always told you."
"That doesn't sound like him," Elena whispered, though a seed of doubt planted itself in her chest. Julian had been distant lately. Maybe he was tired of her working all the time.
The door opened, and Grant Sterling walked in. He looked fresh, rested, and victorious.
"Elena. Thank God." He sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand. Elena was too weak to pull it away.
"Grant, the contract."
"Hush," Grant smiled. "I handled it. I spoke to the board. I told them that if Vance Architecture merges with Sterling Group, I will personally guarantee the debts. Your company is saved, Elena."
Elena blinked. "Merger? But that means."
"It means we become partners. In every sense." Grant’s thumb stroked her knuckles. "Your parents and I have discussed the terms. It involves a union. A marriage."
Elena pulled her hand back. "I am married."
"To a man who abandoned you?" Grant reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a manila envelope. "My private investigator found this. Photos of Julian entering the Grand Meridian Hotel last night. Alone. And... spending quite a lot of cash at the bar."
He showed her a grainy photo of Julian in a suit she didn't recognize, drinking whiskey.
"He took the little money you had in the joint account and blew it on a hotel room while you were dying here," Sylvia added, her voice dripping with venom.
Elena stared at the photo. It was Julian. But he looked different. Harder. "I don't believe it," Elena said, though her voice wavered.
"Believe it," Grant said. "I’m here now. I saved the company. I paid the hospital. I am the one fighting for you."
Suddenly, the door swung open again.
It wasn't a doctor. It was a man in a delivery uniform.
"Delivery for Elena Vance?"
"More flowers?" Grant laughed. "Put them in the corner."
"No flowers," the delivery man said. He handed Elena a small, velvet box.
Elena opened it. Inside was her favorite snack, a simple, cheap cronut from a bakery across town that she loved, and a note.
“The roses aren't from me. They have thorns. I’m handling the sharks. Rest now. - J.”
Elena looked at the cronut. It was still warm.
"Trash," Sylvia said, reaching for it. "He sends a donut while Grant sends millions?"
"Don't touch it," Elena snapped. She looked at Grant. "If you saved the company, show me the paperwork."
Grant’s smile faltered for a microsecond. "It's being drawn up. But there is a time limit, Elena. The bank is calling the loan in 48 hours. If we aren't engaged by then, the merger fails, and your parents lose the house."
The ultimatum hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
Just then, Grant’s phone buzzed. He checked it, and his brow furrowed.
"Is something wrong?" Arthur asked.
"My CFO," Grant muttered. "He says... he says our accounts have been frozen for a security audit."
"What?" Sylvia gasped.
Grant stood up. "It’s a mistake. A glitch. I need to step out."
As Grant rushed to the door, he nearly collided with a man entering. A tall man in a charcoal suit, radiating power.
Grant stopped. He looked at the man. He blinked.
"Julian?" Grant asked, unsure.
Julian Thorne brushed an invisible speck of dust off his lapel. He didn't look at Grant. He looked past him, directly at Elena.
"Get out of my way," Julian said. "I have to speak to my wife."
- Writer
