He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 17

He Bought His Mistress A Penthouse In The Building I Own Chapter 17: The Mastermind Revealed

“Boss,” Trent said, his voice ringing crisp and clear through the tense air. “He wants to see you.”

I pushed my toe against the floor. The heavy executive chair swiveled around.

I faced the boardroom.

Julian hung between the two security guards. His torn suit jacket slipped off his shoulder. His tie was gone.

He stared at me.

I crossed my hands and placed them flat on the polished mahogany table. My spine stayed entirely straight. A cold layer of sweat formed between my shoulder blades, soaking into the thin fabric of my silk blouse. I kept my expression perfectly blank.

“Hello, Julian,” I said.

He blinked. He looked at Trent, then back to me.

“Sera?” he asked.

“You wanted a meeting with the owner,” I pointed out. “Start pitching.”

A strange, broken laugh escaped his throat. “What are you doing in that chair? Get up. You are going to get us sued.”

“Nobody is suing me in my own building.”

“This isn’t your building!” He tried to yank his arm free from the guard on his left. “Trent, why is my fiancée sitting there? Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Ms. Hale is the majority shareholder of Vanguard Real Estate,” Trent stated.

Julian stopped struggling.

The frantic energy vanished from his face. In exactly two seconds, the manic desperation morphed into pure, unadulterated shock. His mouth fell open. His eyes widened, darting between my face and the expensive corporate logo mounted on the wall behind me.

“No,” he whispered.

“Yes,” I replied.

“You run a boutique PR firm. You handle local marketing campaigns.”

“I bought a PR firm to stay busy,” I told him. “And to give you the illusion that you were the main provider in our relationship.”

“You don’t have the capital for Vanguard.”

“I have capital you couldn’t even comprehend.”

“This is impossible.” He shook his head violently. “I know your finances. I saw your tax returns.”

“You saw the tax returns for the shell corporation I created specifically for our joint accounts.”

He stared at me as if I were a stranger. “You lied to me for three years?”

“You slept with your assistant for two.”

“That was different!” he shouted.

“How?”

“I made a mistake! A physical mistake! You orchestrated an entire fake life!”

“I protected my assets from a parasite.”

“You set me up!” Julian lunged forward. The guards tightened their grips, holding him firmly in place. “You funded Apex Financial! You told Victor Kane to offer me that loan!”

“I gave Victor the capital,” I agreed. “I told him to demand a personal guarantee.”

“You knew I would sign it!”

“I knew you were desperate enough to try.”

“That makes you an accomplice!”

“That makes me a creditor.”

Julian gasped for air. His chest heaved. “You sent the police to the loan office. You tipped them off about the forgery.”

“I merely provided the forensic evidence exactly when it was needed.”

“You are a monster,” he spat.

“I am a businesswoman.”

“We were engaged! You are supposed to protect me!”

“You lost that privilege the moment you gave my grandmother’s sapphire necklace to Chloe.”

He flinched. The mention of the necklace drained a fraction of the fight from his posture. “She left me,” he mumbled.

“I know. I watched her pack.”

“You went to the apartment?”

“I stood in the doorway while she threw a fake diamond at your face.”

A harsh flush of humiliation crept up his neck. “You watched that?”

“Every second of it.”

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because you thought I was blind,” I said smoothly. “You thought you could drain my accounts, parade your mistress around town, and keep me smiling in the dark.”

Julian turned his head, looking desperately at the other people in the room. “Trent. David. You guys know me. I designed this entire floor. I built the Vanguard aesthetic.”

“You were a hired contractor,” David replied coldly. “Paid well above market rate.”

“Because of her!” Julian yelled, pointing a shaking finger at me. “She fed me those contracts!”

“I gave you an opportunity,” I corrected. “You chose to use the profits to fund a double life.”

“What about Paris?” he asked, his voice cracking. He looked back at me, tears welling in his eyes. “Our trip three years ago. You told me I was the only man who ever made you feel safe.”

“I was twenty-four and grieving my grandmother,” I said. “You were convenient.”

He recoiled. “That’s a lie. You adored me.”

“I adored the man you pretended to be. The man who vanished the second he got access to my credit limit.”

“I can fix this.” He started bargaining again, the panic returning to his tone. “I will sign whatever you want today. I won’t ask for a settlement. I will walk away with nothing.”

“You already have nothing.”

“I will leave the state! Just call the DA. Tell them you authorized the signature on the loan.”

“I don’t commit perjury.”

“Sera, please!” He dragged his feet across the marble floor, trying to get closer to the table. “I am begging you. Do not send me to prison. I won’t survive five years in a cell.”

“You should have thought of that before you picked up the pen.”

“I was trying to save my company!”

“You were trying to buy an oceanfront penthouse for a woman who despised you.”

I unclasped my hands. I reached toward the leather folder resting near my coffee cup. I flipped the cover open.

Inside sat a single, heavy sheet of premium cardstock.

“What is that?” Julian asked, his voice trembling.

“Proof.”

I pulled the document from the folder. The gold foil seal of the state registry gleamed under the overhead lights.

“You wanted to negotiate with the owner,” I reminded him. “You wanted to offer your empty shell of a design firm in exchange for your freedom.”

“I didn’t know it was you.”

“Pitch me, Julian.”

“Don’t do this.”

“Tell me why I should spare you.”

“Because I loved you!”

I flicked my wrist forward.

The thick paper sailed through the air. It cleared the mahogany table and fluttered downward. It landed directly at the tips of his scuffed dress shoes.

The crisp smack of the parchment hitting the floorboards echoed violently through the dead-quiet room.

Every board member watched in absolute silence.

My back remained perfectly straight. The sweat on my skin felt cold, grounding me in the reality of the moment.

“Look at it,” I commanded.

Julian stared down at the floor.

“Read the name on the absolute holding certificate.”

He didn’t move.

“Read it aloud,” I snapped, my voice cutting through the space like a knife.

Julian swallowed hard. His eyes tracked the bold, black ink printed across the center of the page.

“Seraphina Hale,” he whispered.

The last thread holding him together finally snapped.

His knees buckled.

He slipped right through the guards’ hands and crashed heavily onto the boardroom’s wool rug.