THE DISCARDED CEO

Bab 10 - Shadows of the Syndicate

Julian's secluded penthouse was silent. The only sound was the soft brush of the cashmere fabric of his suit as he settled into an ergonomic chair that cost as much as a luxury car. His gaze remained fixed on the wall of monitors displaying endless rows of numbers and the moving laser coordinates tracking Christian Miller's location.

"Thomas," Julian called, his voice calm yet carrying unmistakable authority. "Has that lanky man from the East Coast organization landed in San Francisco yet?"

Thomas Vance, who had been standing in the shadow of a bookshelf, stepped forward immediately. The desk lamp reflected off his spotless glasses.

"The private cargo aircraft belonging to the Green Lady group landed thirty minutes ago, Young Master. Just as we expected, Victor, the collector from the syndicate that loaned Christian the money, has already begun combing the Oakland docks."

"Good," Julian interrupted. "That means we have less time than I anticipated. Christian is no longer a simple corporate problem. He's meat hanging in front of a pack of starving wolves."

Julian took a slow sip of his espresso.

"They won't let tomorrow morning's auction proceed peacefully if Christian is still hiding inside Miller Group headquarters. Arrange a meeting. I want to speak directly with Victor's men. Don't let Victor get too deep into this city without my knowledge."

Warehouse Thirty-Nine at the docks looked bleak. Flickering fluorescent lights illuminated tiny specks of dust drifting through the damp air.

Julian stepped out of his black sedan without the slightest hesitation. His long black overcoat hung sharply over his broad frame, while his expensive leather boots landed confidently on the moss-covered concrete floor.

Three men dressed in tight black tracksuits stood at the entrance. One wore a thick silver chain around his neck. He lazily chewed gum while looking Julian up and down.

"Vance, huh?" the man with the silver chain said, his voice as rough as sandpaper. "You bring a whole security team, or is it just that old man behind you?"

"He's enough to put ten men like you to sleep before you even swallow that gum," Julian replied evenly. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, its face glowing faintly. "Take me to Victor. I don't have another fifteen minutes to waste listening to your jokes."

The man snorted before jerking his head toward the entrance.

Julian and Thomas followed the muscular men deeper into the warehouse.

There, a broad-shouldered man wearing an earth-brown wool suit sat on an empty wooden crate. He was Victor, the special envoy of the international loan shark syndicate hunting Christian.

Victor stood as Julian approached. He adjusted his sunglasses despite the warehouse's dim lighting. Resting his calloused hands on a folding table stained with grease and scattered documents, he smiled faintly.

"Julian Vance," Victor said, emphasizing every syllable. "A name that suddenly appeared like a ghost on the Forbes list. You're fortunate your assistant notified us through our private channels in time."

"Let's skip the formalities, Vic." Julian pulled out a folding chair and sat opposite him. His relaxed posture contrasted sharply with the threatening atmosphere surrounding them. "Christian's gambling debt has reached ten million dollars, including the interest your people deliberately inflated through shell companies. Correct?"

Victor smiled, revealing a single gold tooth that glimmered in the darkness.

"The Miller family's adopted son has been our most reliable cash machine for the past three years. Unfortunately, lately all his checks have bounced. He doesn't even realize he's been wagering things he never should have sold to us."

"I know he pledged confidential port logistics data as collateral," Julian cut in, raising his tone just enough that it sounded like a statement rather than a question. "But that asset belongs to me now. Legally and financially, he pledged property he no longer owns."

Victor's men shifted uneasily.

Julian did not move.

Victor leaned forward.

"Then why bother coming to this rusty warehouse if you've already won, Mr. Vance?"

Julian crossed one leg over the other, his tailored trousers remaining perfectly crisp.

"Because I don't want tomorrow's event ruined by a liar's blood splattering across the auction stage. I only want one guarantee. Your people won't touch him until tomorrow night's auction is over. If you remain patient, I'll pay off his principal debt today, in full, from the Vance family's liquidity account."

Thomas Vance placed a slim silver briefcase before Victor.

When the lock clicked open, the lid slowly rose.

Even the warehouse's harsh lighting could not conceal what lay inside.

Thousands of high-denomination bonds.

Victor's men inhaled sharply.

This was the easiest resolution they had ever encountered in their brutal debt collection careers.

Victor narrowed his cold eyes.

"You're saving him from death by paying off his debt? That doesn't sound like something a businessman would do after being publicly betrayed, Julian."

Julian smiled sideways, the smile of a predator who already controlled the battlefield.

"Saving him? Vic, you're thinking far too small. His debt to you is finished. But I paid it only to make sure he doesn't end up in a coffin too soon. Death is easy for a bastard like him."

"So you're keeping him alive to torture him in court?" Victor asked, his voice quieter now, his curiosity satisfied.

"Not something as simple as a courtroom. I want him to believe he still has a way out tonight, so tomorrow he'll walk proudly into the Miller family's prestigious auction. Only after that will I slowly extinguish his light." Julian rose to his feet. "Take the money. Tell your team to monitor the perimeter from a distance."

Back inside the car, silence settled over Julian's luxury sedan.

San Francisco streamed past outside the windows.

Billboards advertising the Miller Honor Auction were already being installed by the agents Julian had deployed earlier.

"Thomas."

Julian rested his head against the soft leather headrest.

"Any additional instructions for Blackwood Corp, Young Master?" Thomas asked.

"Call Blackwood's communications adviser. Tell him not to approach that syndicate again in an attempt to salvage his fake steel logistics deal," Julian said through clenched teeth. "Marcus Blackwood has started noticing irregularities in Victor's transaction tonight. Make sure he gets trapped inside false information if he catches the scent of our money."

Thomas entered several commands on the vehicle's touchscreen.

"Do you think Christian will try to run now that he feels somewhat safe tonight, Young Master?"

Julian let out a cold chuckle.

"Oh, he won't run. He's a pathological liar suffering from delusions of grandeur. Once he feels the false sense of security I've given him, along with Victor, through that gambling debt being paid under my name, he'll convince himself that fortune has smiled on him again. He's an insect in love with the flame that's about to burn it alive."

A moment later, Julian's attention shifted to the tablet displaying a live feed from Christian's nearly mortgaged penthouse.

Christian was talking on the phone while wearing a silk bathrobe, laughing loudly.

He looked remarkably relaxed for someone who had just deceived dozens of investors on Evelyn's level.

"Victor's shadows are watching his condominium now, correct?" Julian confirmed.

"Yes, Young Master. Four hired paramilitary units from the syndicate are positioned on the north and south sides of the building. Not even a rat will leave without permission from either the Vance network or Victor's hired men," Thomas reported with intelligence-grade precision.

The sedan glided smoothly down upscale Union Street.

Julian watched pedestrians who had no idea that the economy in one corner of San Francisco had just been reset by the stroke of a single man's pen.

To Julian, Chapter Ten was never about the ten million dollars he had handed to Victor.

It was a death insurance premium for Christian's public image, ensuring that tomorrow every eye in attendance would witness just how insignificant Christian Miller truly was without the mask crafted by the Miller family.

As the day faded into the early hours of the morning, shadows moved from the corridors of Blackwood Corp's secret headquarters toward the towering pillars of the Miller family's hollow empire.

The syndicate that specialized in recovering illicit funds was more than a debt collector.

It was Julian's final instrument for ensuring there would be no room for mercy when his prey's honor was stripped away tomorrow.

Christian, the elder Miller, and Marcus all believed Julian was nothing more than a wealthy man acting out of old resentment, bidding outrageous sums in an emotional outburst.

In reality, every dollar of the Vance family's liquid assets had been allocated to guide the truth onto a new altar.

The truth about the rightful bloodline and the legitimate ownership of that vast empire would soon rest upon the shoulders of the man with eyes as cold as ice.

The Ritz-Carlton penthouse welcomed Julian home. Despite the mental strain of the day, he appeared remarkably refreshed.

"Erase every record of calls made to the West Coast syndicate from the primary system logs within the last ten minutes," Julian instructed as he removed his cashmere overcoat. The sleeves were carefully received by the automated housekeeping unit waiting inside his private elevator.

"Good evening, Young Master. I wish you a restful night," Thomas said quietly, bowing with sincere respect before the elevator doors closed, sealing Julian away from the outside world.

The chapter ended with the silent transaction that had taken place earlier.

The winner now had only to wait for the auctioneer's gavel to fall tomorrow at the prestigious hotel.

Then it would begin.

The deepest stain of bankruptcy would consume everything.

The long wait to reclaim the inheritance stolen from his late mother in Vancouver would finally come to an end.

No trace of regret, no lingering tears, and no mercy would remain.

Tomorrow, everything would be finished.