Chapter 38 - The Chessboard
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"Everything okay with your mail, Emma?" Julian asked smoothly, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin.
"Just junk mail, Julian," I replied, keeping my face completely impassive, my years of corporate consulting training masking every single drop of emotion.
I reached out and picked up the Swiss vault document Julian had placed on the table earlier.
I scanned the ledger details carefully. The document indeed listed a Swiss vault account in Zurich under the name Miller Global Trust. Current balance: $5,200,000.00.
"Your father knew Arthur Mercer very well, didn't he, Julian?" I asked casually, taking another slow sip of my wine.
Julian’s knife paused for a fraction of a second against his plate. It was a subtle movement—so small no ordinary person would have noticed it. But I did.
"Our families had business ties decades ago, yes," Julian answered smoothly, setting his cutlery down. "My father was an investor in Arthur’s early shipping ventures."
"Did your father invest five million dollars in Arthur’s Swiss trust?" I pressed gently, leaning forward, resting my chin on my hands.
Julian stared at me for three long seconds. The polite, professional mask he had worn for a year slipped just a fraction, revealing the sharp, calculating genius underneath.
"Arthur was a brilliant strategist, Emma," Julian said softly, his voice dropping into a low register. "He knew how to move money across borders better than anyone in North America. But he made one mistake—he trusted Vivian."
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"And what mistake did your father make, Julian?" I asked.
Julian smiled—a cold, beautiful, dangerous expression. "My father trusted Arthur."
