Chapter 8 - The Lawyer’s Gamble
The monitors beside my bed let out a subtle, accelerated beep as my heart rate spiked past 120 beats per minute.
"You orchestrated the crash," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "The delivery truck. Yesterday afternoon. You knew I was driving down Route 9 to meet the tax auditor. You needed me incapacitated so you could execute the secondary signatory clause before I reviewed the quarterly ledger."
Julian didn't deny it. He didn't even blink. He simply locked the tablet screen and slid it back into his jacket pocket with quiet, terrifying poise.
"Accidents happen on city streets every day, Miranda," Julian said smoothly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "A faulty brake line here, a mistimed traffic light there. The police report already closed the case as a negligent driver who fled the scene. No one is looking for a corporate conspiracy."
"You think you're going to get away with twenty million dollars?" I demanded, gripping the blanket tightly with my right hand. "I’ll expose you to the SEC. I’ll have every international asset frozen by morning!"
"With what phone, Miranda?" Julian asked, his smile widening into something truly predatory.
He reached out, his hand darting swiftly beneath my pillow, and pulled out my burner phone before I could react. He tossed it casually onto the rolling bedside table, right beside my half-empty water pitcher.
"Your primary phone is locked in the security deposit box downstairs, and this little burner device doesn't have an active cellular link to the outside world—only a local Wi-Fi relay that my tech team has been tracking all evening," Julian explained calmly. "By morning, you'll be heavily medicated, resting quietly in a private recovery facility upstate. And I will be signing the final liquidation papers in Zurich."
He turned toward the door, his polished leather shoes clicking softly against the linoleum floor.
"It's been a pleasure representing you, Miranda," Julian said over his shoulder, his hand resting on the brass door handle. "Consider this an expensive lesson in corporate security. Never trust a lawyer who knows all your secrets."
May you like
The door opened, and before I could scream or lunge out of bed, he slipped out into the hallway, pulling it shut behind him with a quiet, final click.
---
