He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 13

He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 13: The Midpoint Trigger

The tinted window of the Maybach offered a perfect, unobstructed view of the street.

“He is actually going inside,” Victor noted from the seat beside me.

I kept my eyes locked on the opposite sidewalk. Julian adjusted the lapels of his navy suit. He tucked the manila folder tightly under his left arm and confidently pushed through the heavy glass doors of Apex Financial.

“He thinks he won,” I replied.

“Arrogance is an expensive habit.” Victor checked his platinum wristwatch. “My loan officer is expecting him. The desk is prepped.”

“Did you brief the officer on the exact protocol?”

“Of course. The moment Julian hands over the document, the officer will scan the signature line. Once he confirms the forgery, he hits the silent alarm under the desk.”

“Julian will try to charm his way through the transaction.”

“Charm doesn’t clear a three-million-dollar wire transfer,” Victor stated flatly. “Only your signature does that. And since you are sitting next to me, Julian is officially committing felony fraud.”

I leaned back against the leather headrest. The air conditioning hummed quietly in the enclosed cabin.

“Do you feel any regret?” Victor asked.

“Over a man who stole my grandmother’s sapphire?”

“Over a man you almost married.”

“I almost married an illusion.” I smoothed a microscopic wrinkle from my trousers. “The man walking into that bank is a stranger.”

“He will face prison time for this, Seraphina.”

“Good.”

“The mandatory minimum is five years. He won’t survive a week in a state facility.”

“He should have thought about that before he picked up my fountain pen.”

Victor turned his head, studying my profile in the dim light of the backseat. “You play a brutal game.”

“I am just enforcing the rules he broke.”

“He will claim you gave him verbal authorization. He will tell the authorities you allowed him to sign as your proxy.”

“I have the security footage from my study,” I informed him. “I watched him trace my name from a canceled check. I have the entire process saved on a flash drive.”

A low, rough laugh escaped Victor’s throat. “You recorded him.”

“I protect my assets.”

“Remind me never to cross you.”

“Just keep your end of the bargain, Victor. The Vanguard shares stay in my vault.”

“You have my word.”

Silence stretched between us. I watched the digital clock on the dashboard flip forward. Two minutes had passed since Julian entered the building.

“What is happening right now?” I asked.

“Right now?” Victor steepled his fingers. “Julian is likely sitting in the plush leather chair opposite my guy. He is probably bragging about his new interior design contracts. He will slide the folder across the mahogany desk, expecting a handshake.”

“And Chloe?”

“She is probably waiting by her phone for the wire confirmation.”

“She will be waiting a long time.”

“Did you get the necklace back from her?” Victor inquired.

“I took it back.”

“Forcefully?”

“Persuasively. She threatened to call the police.”

“But she didn’t.”

“She realized explaining how she acquired stolen property wouldn’t end well for her.”

“Four minutes,” Victor announced, glancing at his wrist again.

Something coiled tight beneath my ribs. I pressed my thumb against the side of my index finger, digging the nail into the skin.

“Are the police positioned?” I asked.

“Two blocks away. They received the preliminary tip an hour ago. The silent alarm just gives them the green light to move in.”

“He might run.”

“Where? The security guards lock the front doors the second the alarm trips.”

I stared at the glass facade of Apex Financial. The lobby looked deceptively calm. A receptionist typed at a computer. A security guard stood by the metal detectors.

Then, the overhead lights in the lobby flashed red.

Once. Twice. A rapid, pulsing strobe.

“There it is,” Victor murmured.

I reached for the door panel and pressed the silver button. The tinted window glided downward, letting the humid afternoon air rush into the car.

“Keep your distance, Seraphina,” Victor warned.

“I want to hear it.”

The distant wail of sirens cut through the ambient city noise. The sound started as a low whine, rapidly escalating into a piercing shriek.

“They move fast,” Victor commented.

“Three million dollars gets priority dispatch.”

The sirens grew louder, bouncing off the concrete faces of the skyscrapers. The noise hammered against my eardrums. A sharp, physical ache spiked in the center of my head.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

My shoulders began to tremble beneath the structured fabric of my suit jacket. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t sorrow. It was the violent release of the last three days of suppressed adrenaline. The sheer, overwhelming reality of the trap finally snapping shut.

“Are you alright?” Victor’s voice sounded muffled over the approaching chaos.

“I am fine,” I lied, forcing my eyes open.

Two police cruisers swerved around the corner. Their tires squealed against the asphalt. They slammed their brakes directly in front of Apex Financial, blocking the entrance completely.

Red and blue lights painted the street in frantic strokes.

“Showtime,” Victor said.

Four officers piled out of the vehicles. They didn’t walk. They sprinted toward the glass doors, their hands resting on their utility belts.

The security guard inside unlocked the entrance, waving them through.

“How long will they keep him inside?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady.

“Just long enough to read him his rights and secure the evidence.”

“The folder.”

“My loan officer will hand it directly to the lead detective. The forged signature is now state’s evidence.”

I gripped the edge of the open window. The metal frame felt warm under the afternoon sun.

“He is going to call Chloe,” I predicted.

“They confiscate cell phones during an arrest.”

“He will use his one phone call on her. He will beg her to post bail.”

“With what money? You froze his accounts, and his car is sitting in an impound lot.”

I let out a short, hollow breath. “She will abandon him.”

“She is a parasite, Seraphina. Parasites detach when the host dies.”

We sat in silence as the minutes dragged on. The flashing lights from the cruisers reflected off the hood of the Maybach, throwing harsh shadows across Victor’s face.

A small crowd of pedestrians began to gather on the sidewalk, holding up their phones to record the scene.

“Look,” Victor instructed.

The glass doors of Apex Financial pushed open.

The two officers emerged first.

Between them walked Julian.

His navy suit jacket hung askew. His tie was yanked loose, the silk knot hanging halfway down his chest.

His hands were wrenched firmly behind his back. The silver metal of the handcuffs caught the sunlight, glinting sharply as the officers hauled him forward.