He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 04

He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 04: The Locked Gates

I killed the engine of my Aston Martin. I parked directly across the street from the Côte d’Azur construction site. I pressed the console button. The passenger-side window glided down, letting the sharp night air fill the cabin.

I picked up my phone, tapping the Vanguard security app. The live feed from the main gate cameras appeared on my screen. I synced the audio to my car’s sound system.

“They just pulled up,” Arthur’s voice chimed through the Bluetooth connection. “Are you watching?”

“I have a front-row seat,” I replied. I kept my eyes fixed on the heavy iron gates across the street.

“The bank finished processing your request,” Arthur added. “The joint accounts are frozen. The wedding reserve is locked. And the supplementary black card—”

“Is a useless piece of metal,” I finished for him.

“Exactly. If he tries to buy a pack of gum with it, the terminal will laugh at him.”

“Good. Stay on the line, Arthur. I want a witness.”

Across the street, a black Uber SUV idled. Julian stepped out onto the damp pavement. He turned and offered his hand to Chloe. She slid out, complaining instantly.

“It is freezing out here, Julian,” Chloe whined. “And look at the ground. I am wearing suede.”

“It will only take a minute,” Julian promised. “I want to show you the lobby dimensions. We need to decide if the marble pillars stay or go.”

“I thought you said the deed was delayed.”

“It is a minor glitch,” Julian dismissed. “I already signed the papers. The penthouse is ours. I am not waiting until tomorrow to start planning the renovations.”

I scoffed quietly. He wanted to tear out three million dollars worth of imported Italian marble.

Julian strutted toward the main entrance. Chloe clung to his bicep. They reached the perimeter.

Two Vanguard security guards materialized from the shadows of the guardhouse. They wore heavy tactical vests. Both held batons resting casually against their thighs. A thick strip of yellow caution tape stretched across the opening.

“Hold it right there,” the taller guard, Miller, ordered.

Julian stopped. He puffed out his chest. “Take down the tape. We are going inside.”

“Site is closed, sir,” Miller replied.

“I am Julian Voss. I just purchased the Unit A Penthouse an hour ago.”

“Nobody bought anything tonight. Move along.”

“Do you know who I am?” Julian stepped closer, his voice rising.
“My fiancée owns this entire development. Seraphina Hale. I am sure you have heard of her.”

“I know who signs my paychecks,” Miller stated flatly. “And she issued a hard lockdown an hour ago. Nobody gets in without her direct clearance.”

“I am her clearance!” Julian shouted. “Call Marcus. Get your site manager out here right now.”

“Marcus went home.” Miller didn’t budge. “Red-header directive came down from corporate. The gates stay locked. Same directive that pulled your access from every door in this portfolio, by the way. Including the one at the villa.”

Julian went still. “What?”

“You heard the broadcast same as everyone else on this site, sir.”

Chloe tugged on Julian’s sleeve. “Julian, maybe we should just go back to my place. This is embarrassing.”

“I am not leaving,” Julian snapped at her. He turned his glare back to Miller. “I am not letting a pair of minimum-wage rent-a-cops ruin my night.”

“Watch your mouth, buddy,” the second guard warned, gripping his baton a fraction tighter.

“Or what?” Julian challenged. “You will arrest me on my own property?”

“This is Vanguard property,” Miller corrected. “Step back from the tape.”

Julian’s face flushed a deep, angry red. He reached into his tailored jacket. He pulled out his slim leather wallet.

“Listen to me,” Julian said. He dropped his tone, trying to sound authoritative. “I understand you are just following orders. But you work for my future wife. That means you work for me.”

Miller crossed his arms. “I work for Vanguard.”

Julian extracted a heavy, matte-black card. My supplementary card. The one linked directly to my primary wealth accounts.

“There is no limit on this plastic,” Julian bragged, waving the metal in the dim streetlights. “I will swipe it for five grand right now. Just lift the tape and look the other way for twenty minutes.”

Miller stared at him. “Put that away, sir.”

“Julian, stop it,” Chloe hissed, glancing nervously at the passing cars. “They are going to call the police.”

“Let them!” Julian roared. “I am a stakeholder in this company. I have rights.”

“You have a piece of plastic,” Miller said.

“A piece of plastic that can buy your entire life!” Julian spat. He shoved the card right into Miller’s face. “Take the twenty grand. Both of you. Go buy yourselves something nice. Stop playing hero for a woman who doesn’t even know your names.”

In my car, I gripped the steering wheel. I knew their names. Miller had a daughter starting college next month. I approved his overtime requests personally. Julian knew nothing about my company. He only knew how to spend its profits.

Miller raised his left hand. He didn’t hesitate. He swatted Julian’s wrist hard.

The impact echoed across the quiet street. The heavy metal card flew from Julian’s grip. It flipped through the air, catching the glare of the streetlamp, and landed with a wet smack into a muddy puddle next to the curb.

I watched the black metal sink into the grime.

That card represented my trust. My money. My three years of wasted loyalty. Seeing it sitting in the dirt, used as a cheap bribe for his mistress’s entertainment, pushed my fury past the breaking point.

“Hey!” Julian shouted. He stared at the mud, his eyes wide with shock. “Do you have any idea how much money is on that?!”

“Julian, your shoes,” Chloe gasped, pointing at the splashes of dirty water on his oxfords.

“Forget the shoes!” Julian yelled. He pointed a trembling finger at Miller. “Pick that up and wipe it off. Now.”

Miller took a step forward. He lifted his heavy combat boot.

He brought his foot down directly on top of the black metal card, grinding it deeper into the mud.

Julian froze. His mouth fell open.

Miller leaned in. A cold sneer twisted his lips.

“Didn’t your fiancée tell you?” Miller asked.

“Tell me what?” Julian demanded, his voice cracking.

Miller kept his boot firmly planted. “This card was canceled by the bank half an hour ago.”