Chapter 4 - Forty-Six Million Reasons
By noon, Julian’s access to the Gold Coast house had been suspended.
By 12:15, Victoria’s movers had been turned away.
By 12:30, photographs of the incident were online.
VICTORIA HAYES LOCKED OUT OF NEW HUSBAND’S MANSION.
The headline would have been funny if my chest didn't hurt every time I laughed.
Julian called eleven times.
I answered none.
Instead, Adrian arranged a secure video conference with three independent directors of Vance Global and Marcus Bell, the CFO.
Marcus looked exhausted.
“We have six hours before the international transfer window closes,” he said.
“Can you stop the wire?” I asked.
“Not unilaterally. Julian authorized it as CEO.”
“What about Victoria?”
“She shouldn't have signing authority at that level. Her authorization was added yesterday.”
Adrian leaned forward.
“By whom?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Julian.”
“Board approval?”
“No.”
Adrian smiled without humor.
“Good.”
Marcus looked confused.
“Good?”
“It means we can challenge the authority immediately.”
One of the directors, Helen Crawford, spoke.
“Mrs. Vance, with respect, why are you involved?”
I opened Schedule C.
“Because the Beaumont Legacy Trust owns thirty-eight percent of Vance Global.”
Silence.
Marcus removed his glasses.
Helen stared.
Another director whispered, “Thirty-eight?”
“Yes.”
“That isn't reflected in our voting register.”
“Because I waived active voting rights.”
Adrian placed a document before the camera.
“The waiver has now been revoked.”
Helen sat back.
“When?”
Adrian looked at his watch.
“Eleven minutes ago.”
Everything changed after that.
Lawyers joined.
Emergency resolutions circulated.
The transfer was frozen pending review.
Julian learned about it at 1:07.
At 1:09, he finally sent me a text.
What the hell have you done?
I replied with four words.
Read your own contracts.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Then:
You don't understand what you're interfering with.
That sentence bothered me.
Not because it frightened me.
Because it sounded less like arrogance than warning.
I showed Adrian.
His expression hardened.
“Don't answer.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't think the money was all for Victoria.”
“Then who?”
He didn't respond.
At 2:40, hospital security called.
Julian was downstairs.
“He says he is your husband,” the guard explained.
“Legally, unfortunately, he is.”
“Do you want him removed?”
I looked at Adrian.
He said nothing.
This was my choice.
“Send him up.”
Eleanor protested.
“Genevieve—”
“I want to hear him.”
Julian entered ten minutes later.
He looked nothing like the groom from the livestream.
His tie was missing.
His hair was disordered.
His face was pale.
Then he saw me.
The anger vanished.
For a fraction of a second, there was genuine shock.
The IV.
The monitors.
The oxygen tubing.
The surgical dressing.
He stopped near the door.
“My God.”
I said nothing.
“You really…”
“Almost died?”
He swallowed.
“I didn't know.”
“The hospital called seven times.”
“My phone was with security during the ceremony.”
“You had staff.”
“I thought you were in New York.”
“You thought wrong.”
He stepped closer.
Adrian stood.
Julian noticed him.
“What is he doing here?”
“Working.”
“For whom?”
“Me.”
Julian's eyes narrowed.
“Of course.”
Adrian’s expression remained neutral.
Julian looked back at me.
“Can we speak privately?”
“No.”
“Genevieve.”
“Whatever you say to me can be said in front of my attorney.”
“Your attorney?”
“Yes.”
Something in his face shifted.
He finally understood that this was no longer a marital argument.
“Fine.”
He pulled a chair closer.
“I made mistakes.”
“That's a remarkably efficient description of bigamy.”
“The ceremony wasn't legally binding.”
“But you told the world it was.”
“I was going to file the divorce documents afterward.”
“Without telling me?”
“You knew we weren't happy.”
“That isn't legal notice.”
His jaw tightened.
“I didn't come here to argue.”
“Why did you come?”
His eyes flickered toward Adrian.
“The wire transfer.”
There it was.
Not my surgery.
Not the betrayal.
Forty-six million dollars.
“You froze it,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You need to release it.”
“No.”
“Genevieve, this isn't about Victoria.”
“I know.”
That surprised him.
I continued.
“Hayes Strategic Consulting has received fourteen million dollars in eighteen months.”
His face changed.
Adrian saw it too.
“Who is the forty-six million for?” I asked.
Julian stood.
“You have no idea what you're doing.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can't.”
“Can't or won't?”
He looked at me for a long time.
Then something unexpected happened.
His anger disappeared.
“Your father started something years ago.”
Adrian moved.
“Careful, Julian.”
Julian laughed bitterly.
“There he is. Harrison Beaumont's loyal dog.”
“Leave Harrison out of this.”
“Why? She deserves to know.”
My pulse increased.
“Know what?”
Julian looked directly at me.
“Your father didn't invest in my company because he believed in me.”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
He leaned toward me.
“He invested because he needed somewhere to hide his own exposure.”
Adrian stepped between us.
“Enough.”
“Move.”
“Leave.”
I looked at Adrian.
“What exposure?”
He didn't answer.
Julian smiled.
And suddenly I hated that smile because it told me there was something I didn't know.
“Ask him,” Julian said.
“Ask Adrian why your father created the trust.”
“Julian.”
“Ask him why your father made him trustee.”
My head turned.
“What?”
Adrian froze.
I looked at the documents.
I had assumed my father had appointed an institutional trustee.
“Adrian?”
His silence answered first.
Julian walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he looked back.
“The money wasn't going to Victoria.”
“Then where?”
His hand rested on the handle.
“To keep your father's oldest mistake buried.”
He opened the door.
I called after him.
“What mistake?”
Julian turned.
“Ask Adrian what happened on October seventeenth, twelve years ago.”
Then he left.
I looked at Adrian.
He had gone completely still.
“What happened?”
Nothing.
“Adrian.”
He finally met my eyes.
“Twelve years ago, your father saved my life.”
“That isn't what Julian meant.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
Adrian exhaled.
“That was the night your father discovered someone had been stealing from the Beaumont companies.”
“Who?”
May you like
He looked toward the closed door.
“The man who later became your husband.”
