Chapter 4 - DAY 90
Sunday arrived with a bright, crisp autumn morning.
Upstairs, the house was alive with music, loud laughter, and the bustling sound of high-end event caterers setting up a lavish celebration in the grand ballroom and dining hall.
Richard had invited thirty of his closest corporate executives, board members, and high-society allies to what he publicly declared was a "Private Victory Reception for Apex Capital’s Upcoming IPO." In reality, it was a party to celebrate my expected death and the seamless transition of my multi-billion-dollar fortune into his hands.
Downstairs, in the dim, quiet guest room, I stood in front of a full-length mirror that Marcus’s team had delivered at midnight.
The pale makeup was gone.
My skin was radiant, glowing with vibrant health. My dark hair was styled into an elegant, sharp bob that framed my cheekbones perfectly. My eyes—once dull and filled with despair—were bright, clear, and shining with an absolute, lethal intelligence.
I wore a custom-tailored, emerald-green silk designer dress by Alexander McQueen—a dress that cost thirty thousand dollars, hugging every line of my fully restored, toned figure. On my neck hung the Sterling Diamond—a massive fifty-carat heirloom necklace my father had given me on my twenty-fifth birthday, which Richard thought was locked away in a bank vault in Zurich.
In my right hand, I held a crisp, white leather binder containing three sets of documents:
A clean, certified MRI scan and comprehensive blood panel from Johns Hopkins Medical Center, dated forty-eight hours ago, proving I was in 100% perfect physical health with zero trace of cancer or thallium toxicity.
The complete criminal toxicology report and recorded audio files detailing Richard and Sienna’s systematic poisoning attempt.
The executed foreclosure deeds and corporate buyout papers transferring 100% ownership of Apex Capital, the Greenwich estate, and all personal assets held by Richard Vance directly to the Sterling Master Trust.
A knock sounded at the French doors facing the garden.
Marcus Vance stepped into the room, wearing an immaculate black tuxedo, flanked by four broad-shouldered men in tailored suits holding leather briefcases.
"Everything is in position, Victoria," Marcus said, bowing his head slightly with profound respect. "The United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York, along with six senior agents from the FBI Financial Crimes Division, are standing by outside the main security gates. The New York Stock Exchange regulatory board has already executed a trading halt on Apex Capital based on the evidence we submitted at 6:00 AM."
I turned away from the mirror, smoothing the front of my emerald gown.
"And Richard?" I asked calmly.
"He just popped the first bottle of Dom Pérignon in the dining room," Marcus replied, a cold smirk touching his lips. "He’s currently giving a speech to his board members about his vision for the future."
I picked up the white leather binder from the table.
"Let’s go join the party, Marcus," I said.
We walked out of the guest room, my high heels clicking sharp, firm, and authoritative against the marble floor of the corridor—a sound that echoed through the lower hall like the steady tick of an executioner's clock.
I reached the grand spiraling staircase that led up to the main dining room and ballroom.
Above me, the air was thick with the scent of expensive roses, roasted truffle appetizers, and popping champagne corks. Richard’s loud, booming voice echoed across the open floor space:
"To the future of Apex Capital!" Richard declared, raising his crystal flute high in the air, his arm wrapped tightly around Sienna, who wore a brilliant white gown that showcased her baby bump. "To new beginnings, limitless wealth, and leaving the past behind us!"
"To new beginnings!" the crowd of executives cheered in unison, clinking their glasses together.
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I stepped onto the top landing of the grand staircase.
"What a lovely speech, Richard," I said, my voice cutting through the laughter like a silver blade, clear, powerful, and utterly commandingly. "Mind if I join the toast?"
