He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 14

He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 14: The Forensic Report

The heavy steel door of the visitation room groaned inward.

A burly corrections officer shoved Julian forward. The neon orange fabric of the prison jumpsuit swallowed his frame, turning him into a glaring, unnatural spot of color against the drab gray walls. He stumbled, catching his balance just before his knees hit the edge of the iron table.

“Sit,” the guard barked. He forced Julian down by the shoulder.

Julian dropped into the chair opposite me. His hair stuck up at odd angles, stripped of the expensive pomade he usually wore. Deep, bruised shadows stained the skin under his eyes.

“Sera,” he croaked.

“You missed your dinner reservation with Chloe,” I noted.

He flinched. “Don’t talk about her. Please.”

“Did she answer her phone? When you used your one call?”

“Her number is disconnected.”

I smiled. A tiny, upward curve of my lips. “Parasites detach quickly.”

“I need you to post bail.” Julian leaned forward, rattling the short chain attached to his waist. “The judge set it at five hundred thousand. You can write a check right now.”

“I can. I won’t.”

“You have to! They put me in a holding cell with a man who spent nine hours screaming at the ceiling. I haven’t slept. I haven’t eaten.”

“You should have thought about the accommodations before you walked into Apex Financial.”

“It was a bridge loan!” Julian argued, his voice rising in pitch. “I was going to pay Victor back. I just needed cash to smooth things over.”

“To buy your mistress a flawless diamond.”

He swallowed hard. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “That was a mistake. She means nothing. You know you are the only one I actually care about.”

“Is that why you stole my Vanguard shares?”

“I didn’t steal them. You gave them to me.”

“I gave you phantom equity contingent on a wedding that will never happen.”

I reached beside me. My fingers brushed the smooth calfskin leather of my Hermes bag. I popped the gold clasp open.

“This is a massive overreaction,” Julian insisted, rubbing his handcuffed wrists together. “Victor set me up. He called the police before I even handed the paperwork over.”

“Victor works for me.”

Julian froze. His mouth hung open slightly. “What?”

“Who do you think funded Apex Financial?” I pulled a crisp, white folder from my bag. “Who do you think told Victor to demand a personal guarantee?”

Julian stared at me. The remaining color drained from his cheeks, leaving him the shade of old parchment.

“You orchestrated this,” he whispered.

“You picked up the pen, Julian. I just provided the desk.”

“That’s entrapment!”

“That’s business.”

“You’re crazy. You’re doing this because you’re jealous.”

“Jealous of a woman wearing stolen jewelry? Hardly.”

“I’ll give you Reyes Interiors,” he offered frantically. “I’ll sign the whole company over to you right now.”

“A shell company with zero revenue,” I reminded him. “Try again.”

“Sera, we are a team.”

“Teams don’t forge signatures for three million dollars.”

I laid the folder flat on the iron table. I pushed it forward with my index and middle fingers. The smooth cardboard glided across the scratched metal surface, stopping exactly one inch from his bound hands.

“Open it,” I commanded.

He didn’t move. His eyes darted from the folder to my face.

“I said open it.”

His trembling fingers fumbled with the cover. He flipped it back.

Inside lay a single sheet of paper. The forensic handwriting analysis.

Dead center on the page, stamped in glaring, aggressive red ink, were two words: *FORGERY CONFIRMED*.

“A state-certified expert reviewed your handiwork this morning,” I explained, keeping my tone entirely flat. “He compared the loan contract to three years of my verified signatures. He noted the incorrect slant on the ‘S’ and the hesitation marks on the underline.”

Julian stared at the red stamp. His chest heaved.

“I had verbal authorization,” he stammered, pointing a shaking finger at the report. “I will tell the jury you told me to sign it. We share assets. It’s a gray area.”

“You can tell them whatever you want. The prosecutor will just play the video.”

“Video?”

“From my study. The one where you pulled a three-year-old canceled check out of my bottom drawer, held it up to the desk lamp, and traced my name.”

Julian slumped back against the chair. The metal groaned under his weight.

“You recorded me,” he said, his voice entirely hollow.

“I protect my assets.”

The bitter cold of the iron table seeped through the thin sleeves of my silk blouse. It crept up my wrists, traveling steadily along my forearms. For the past three days, a relentless, twisting knot had occupied my stomach. A violent spasm that flared every time I pictured him kissing Chloe, every time I saw my grandmother’s sapphire around her neck.

I looked at his pale, terrified face.

The spasms finally stopped.

Complete clarity took their place.

“The mandatory minimum for felony fraud in this state is five years,” I stated. “With the video evidence and the forensic report, no defense attorney will take this to trial. They will force you to take a plea deal.”

“Sera, please.”

“You will serve at least three. Maybe four, if you misbehave.”

“I am begging you.” Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes, spilling over onto his cheeks. “Don’t do this. I’ll leave town. I’ll sign the Vanguard shares back over to you. Just call Victor and tell him to drop the charges.”

“The state pressed the charges, Julian. Apex Financial is just the victim.”

“You are the victim!”

“No.” I stood up, smoothing the front of my skirt. “I am the executioner.”

“I’ll pay you back!” he shouted, ignoring the guard who took a step forward. “I’ll work off the debt. Every single cent!”

“You already owe Victor three million.”

“I didn’t take the money! The wire never went through!”

“But you signed the contract,” I pointed out. “And Victor keeps his collateral until the debt is cleared. Good luck explaining that to your bankruptcy lawyer.”

I picked up my Hermes bag and slung the strap over my shoulder.

“Have a nice life, Julian.”

I turned toward the heavy steel door.

Behind me, the scrape of metal against concrete shrieked through the small room.

Julian abruptly shot up from his chair. The chains around his waist clattered violently against the iron. He slammed both of his hands flat onto the table, leaning his entire body weight forward.

“We are not finished, Sera. I decide when this ends.”