Chapter 10 - SIX O'CLOCK
At 5:58 a.m., Julian sat inside a black SUV outside the Bellavue Grand.
He opened his personal laptop.
Project Dawn remained accessible through an encrypted account.
Preston Hale was waiting on video.
"What happened?"
"Board coup."
"Can you stop it?"
"I don't need to."
Julian entered a password.
"We execute now."
Preston hesitated.
"Your authority has been suspended."
"The documents were signed yesterday."
"If Bellavue disputes them—"
"They can dispute whatever they want."
Julian clicked through the final authorization screen.
Preston looked nervous.
"Julian."
"What?"
"If the transfer fails, we walk away."
"It won't fail."
He pressed EXECUTE.
For several seconds, the screen displayed:
PROCESSING.
Then:
TRANSACTION BLOCKED.
Julian tried again.
BLOCKED.
Then his banking application disappeared.
"What the hell?"
Preston stood.
"I'm done."
"Sit down."
"No."
"Preston."
The video disconnected.
Julian immediately called Nathan.
No answer.
He called the bank.
A representative answered.
"Mr. Mercer, your transaction privileges are restricted."
"By whose authority?"
"I can't provide that information."
"This is a legitimate corporate transfer."
"I'm unable to discuss the account further."
Julian hung up.
Then two vehicles pulled into the driveway.
Not police.
Not yet.
Corporate investigators.
Forensic auditors.
And outside counsel.
At 6:11 a.m., every Bellavue property received the same message.
EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, JULIAN MERCER HOLDS NO EXECUTIVE OR OPERATIONAL AUTHORITY WITHIN BELLAVUE HOSPITALITY GROUP.
At 6:14, his photograph disappeared from the internal leadership portal.
At 6:17, his corporate biography was archived.
At 6:20, managers received instructions to preserve communications and financial records.
At 6:23, employees began talking.
By 6:30, journalists knew something had happened.
By 6:41, three business reporters were outside the resort.
And at 6:48, Julian finally understood that the story was no longer controllable.
He called me.
This time, I answered.
"Elena."
His voice sounded different.
Smaller.
"What?"
"Call this off."
"Call what off?"
"The investigation."
"I can't."
"Of course you can."
"No."
"You're controlling the board."
"I'm controlling nothing."
I looked around the conference room.
Auditors were examining transactions.
Attorneys were preserving evidence.
The process had moved beyond personal revenge.
"You tried to divert company assets."
"I was restructuring."
"You tried to move twelve million dollars."
"For legitimate purposes."
"Then explain that to the investigators."
Silence.
Then his voice softened.
"Elena."
I closed my eyes.
That tone.
The same one he used when we were young.
The same one that had once made me believe everything would be okay.
"We can fix this."
I almost hated him for knowing which version of himself to use.
"There is no 'we' anymore."
"Don't say that."
"You ended 'we' long before tonight."
"It was Vanessa."
I opened my eyes.
"No."
"What?"
"Don't do that."
"She manipulated—"
"You gave her my grandmother's necklace."
Silence.
"You planned our divorce."
Nothing.
"You monitored me."
Nothing.
"You tried to strip Bellavue."
Nothing.
"Vanessa didn't make you do any of that."
His breathing became heavier.
"What do you want?"
That question told me everything.
Julian still believed this was negotiation.
"I don't want anything from you."
"Money?"
"No."
"Property?"
"No."
"Control?"
"I already have control."
Silence.
Then I said the one thing he had never expected.
"I want a divorce."
Julian didn't respond.
I ended the call.
Outside the windows, the first sunlight appeared over the city.
Sunrise.
My father walked toward me.
"How do you feel?"
I watched the sky brighten.
"Like I finally woke up."
But downstairs, Julian was about to make one last mistake.
May you like
And this one wouldn't cost him his marriage.
It could cost him his freedom.
