Secret Life Of The Billionaire

The man on Victoria Vale’s hit list was sitting three tables away, smiling like he didn’t know he was going to die tonight. She watched him over the rim of her champagne glass, smiling as though she hadn’t just signed his death warrant. Judge Marcus Bell looked harmless tonight. That was the problem with men like him. They never looked like monsters. The Grand Ballroom of the Astoria glittered with everything money could buy—crystal chandeliers, designer gowns, diamonds, champagne that cost more than most people’s monthly salaries. Politicians mingled with billionaires. CEOs laughed with celebrities. Everyone was dressed beautifully. Everything looked perfect. Victoria Vale knew better than most that perfection was usually a matter of knowing where to hide the cracks. She stood near the center of the room in a silver gown. In her left hand, she held a flute of champagne she hadn't touched, accepting congratulations with the practiced smile she had perfected years ago. “Victoria, darling!” She turned just in time for an elderly woman to take her right hand. “The hospital wing is beautiful. My husband says you’re single-handedly saving this city.” Victoria laughed softly. “I think the doctors might disagree with the single-handedly part.” The woman smiled. Victoria smiled back. She remembered the woman’s name, her husband’s name, the names of both their children. People liked being remembered. It made them feel important and Victoria had learned a long time ago that making people feel important was one of the easiest ways to make them trust you. Her phone vibrated against her thigh. She excused herself and stepped toward the balcony doors. The moment she was alone, she checked the screen. TARGET CONFIRMED. Another message appeared. Judge Bell is in the east lounge. Awaiting authorization. Victoria looked through the glass doors. Bell was laughing. Twenty years on the bench. Hundreds of manipulated verdicts. Men with money walked free. Women without it went to prison. One of his victims had been sixteen. Victoria’s thumb hovered over the screen. She knew what the law would do. Nothing. It had done nothing for years. So Victoria had created something the law couldn’t control. The Black Ledger. She typed: Proceed. She deleted the message. Put her phone away. And returned to the party. No one noticed. That was the beauty of being Victoria Vale. Everyone thought they knew her. The billionaire heiress. The philanthropist. The woman with a heart big enough to build hospitals. Nobody knew what happened after midnight. Just as Victoria turned to return to the party someone bumped into her shoulder. Sorry.” Victoria looked up. The man standing in front of her looked completely out of place. His tuxedo was a rental, slightly too wide in the shoulders, and his dark hair looked as though he’d run his fingers through it several times. He wasn’t wearing the polished expression everyone else in the room seemed to have perfected. And yet, somehow, he was the most interesting man she had seen all evening. His face was striking—strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the colour of warm hazel that seemed almost golden beneath the ballroom lights. There was something effortlessly attractive about him, something rough around the edges that made him stand out among the perfectly groomed men surrounding her. But it wasn’t his looks that caught her attention. It was his eyes. They didn’t wander toward the champagne. Or the jewelry. Or the celebrities. Or even the diamonds at her throat. They were fixed entirely on her. Victoria was accustomed to being watched. Men stared at her everywhere she went. They admired her beauty, her wealth, her status. But this felt different. He wasn’t admiring her. He was studying her. As though she were a puzzle he intended to dismantle piece by piece. And, strangely, Victoria found herself unsettled by it. She was accustomed to being admired. This was different. He wasn’t looking at her like a beautiful woman or a billionaire worth impressing. He was looking at her like an unanswered question and she hated that she found the intensity of his gaze strangely compelling. He was looking directly at Victoria. Something unfamiliar stirred beneath her carefully controlled composure. Curiosity. And perhaps something dangerously close to attraction. She hated that she noticed. “Adrian Cross,” he said, pulling Victoria out of her reverie. She blinked once, quickly masking the distraction. She hated herself for being caught off guard. She had built her entire life around never losing control, never allowing anyone—or anything—to make her hesitate. Yet somehow, a stranger with a poorly fitted tuxedo and an unsettling pair of eyes had managed to do exactly that. “Victoria Vale,” she replied smoothly, extending her hand. “Though I imagine you already knew that.” His lips curved into a faint smile as he took her hand. “Oh, I did.” She recognized the name immediately. Investigative journalist. Freelancer. Thirty-two. Three major corruption stories in the last five years. One lawsuit. Two death threats and an unfortunate habit of refusing to leave things alone. Victoria smiled. “I’ve been trying to reach you for three weeks,” he said. “My secretary is quite thorough. If you haven't reached me, it's likely because your request lacked a compelling reason." “A journalist?” Victoria inquired “A persistent journalist.” He smiled faintly. “I’ve been called worse.” “I doubt that.” His eyes flickered over her face.“You know who I am.” Victoria took a sip of champagne.“I make it my business to know who approaches me.” “That sounds exhausting.” “It keeps me alive.” For the first time, his expression changed. Not fear. Interest. Victoria filed that away. “What did you want to ask me, Mr. Cross?” He glanced around the ballroom. “Not here.” “Then you shouldn’t have approached me here.” “Three corporate executives have disappeared in the last eight months.” Victoria’s smile remained. “ That’s unfortunate.” “They all had offshore accounts.” “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” “They all had connections to companies associated with your foundation.” Her smile didn’t move but something inside her did. This wasn’t a journalist looking for a quote. He had done his homework. “And you came to a charity gala to accuse me of hiding missing executives?” “I came because every time I get close to the truth, someone with more money than me makes the evidence disappear.” Victoria tilted her head. “Perhaps your evidence wasn’t very good.” “Perhaps you’re better at hiding things than I expected.” “Careful, Mr. Cross.” “Why?” “You might accidentally convince me you’re interesting.” “I thought I’d already done that.” Victoria’s smile tightened.“Don’t flatter yourself.” The music continued around them. People laughed. Glasses clinked. Nobody noticed the conversation happening beside the marble column. Victoria studied him. “What exactly are you looking for?” Adrian held her gaze. “The Black Ledger.” For the first time that evening, Victoria’s smile almost disappeared. Almost. She recovered quickly. “I don’t know what that is.” “That’s what everyone says.” “Perhaps because it doesn’t exist.” “Then why did you look nervous?” Victoria blinked. “I didn’t.” “You did.” She laughed softly. “You’re very confident.” “I’ve been wrong before.” “And yet you keep investigating.” “That’s usually how investigations work.” Victoria should have walked away. Instead, she found herself curious. Most people wanted something from her. Money. Access. Approval. Adrian wanted an answer. That made him dangerous. “My office,” she said. His eyebrows lifted. “Tomorrow. Ten o’clock.” “You’re agreeing to an interview?” “I didn’t say that.” “Then why should I come?” Victoria stepped closer.“Because if you’re going to accuse me of running a criminal organization, you should at least have the courage to do it somewhere private.” His expression hardened.“I didn’t accuse you.” “No?” “You already know what I’m talking about.” There it was. Not proof. But suspicion. Victoria smiled. “Come tomorrow, Mr. Cross.” She turned away. “Victoria.” She stopped. He sounded different now. Less like a journalist. More like a man carrying something heavy. “My sister disappeared five years ago.” Victoria slowly turned back. Adrian’s eyes had lost their earlier amusement. “The police said she ran away.” “And you don’t believe them.” “No.” His voice was quiet. “I don’t.” Victoria said nothing. Something about the way he said it unsettled her not because she feared him. Because she recognized the look in his eyes. She had seen it in the mirror. The look of someone who had spent years waiting for an answer. “I’m sorry,” she said. This time, she meant it. Adrian studied her. Then his gaze narrowed. “You really don’t remember her?” Victoria’s heartbeat changed. “Should I?” “My sister’s name was Elena Cross.” The room seemed to grow quieter. Not actually. Just to Victoria. Elena Cross. The name meant something. A file. An old file. One she hadn’t opened in years. Before she could respond, her phone vibrated. Victoria glanced down. PROBLEM RESOLVED. Her eyes returned to Adrian. He was watching her phone. Not the screen. Her reaction. Interesting. “You should be careful with what you investigate,” she said. “Is that a threat?” “No.” Victoria smiled. “It’s advice”. She said and walked away. Behind her, Adrian remained where he was. Victoria didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She could feel his eyes following her. By the time she reached the ballroom doors, another message appeared. This one wasn’t from the Inner Circle. UNKNOWN NUMBER: You should have left Elena Cross buried. Victoria stopped walking. For the first time that night, the smile disappeared completely. She looked around the ballroom. Hundreds of people surrounded her. Politicians. Billionaires. Journalists. Strangers. Somewhere among them was someone who knew about Elena. Someone who knew about the Black Ledger. And someone who knew enough to warn her. Victoria turned the phone’s screen off. Then she lifted her chin and walked back into the crowd. The cameras found her immediately. So did the smiles. Victoria gave them exactly what they wanted. The perfect billionaire. The generous heiress. The woman with nothing to hide. But beneath the silver gown, her fingers had tightened around her phone. For the first time in years, Victoria Vale had a problem she couldn’t solve by simply giving an order. And she had a feeling Adrian Cross was only the beginning.