The Beggar Husband She Divorced Is a Trillionaire

Chapter 6

The top floor of Vantage was a study in understated luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Creston City's glittering skyline, while soft classical music played from hidden speakers. The lighting was dim, intimate, designed for conversations that shaped the world.

Logan stepped into the private dining room where two men waited.

Samuel Wright stood near the window, a man in his late fifties with silver hair and the kind of presence that commanded attention without effort. He was the president of the Creston City Chamber of Commerce, a position that made him one of the most influential figures in the entire region.

Beside him sat Marcus Reed, CEO of Imperial Group. Younger than Samuel by a decade, sharp-eyed and perpetually restless, Marcus radiated the controlled intensity of a man who ran a multi-billion-dollar empire.

Both men turned when Logan entered.

And both immediately bowed.

"Mr. Mercer," Samuel said, his voice carrying genuine respect. "Thank you for coming."

Logan gestured for them to sit. "You said you found something about my mother."

Samuel nodded gravely and gestured to a leather folder on the table. "Please, sit. This conversation requires privacy."

They settled into their seats. A waiter appeared briefly to pour wine and set down plates of food that Logan barely registered. His entire focus was on the folder Samuel was now opening.

"I've been investigating quietly for the past six months, as you requested," Samuel began. "Your mother's death was ruled an accident — a car crash on Riverside Highway, late at night, no witnesses. The official report stated brake failure."

Logan's jaw tightened. "I've read the official report. It was incomplete."

"It was," Samuel agreed. "Because the vehicle's brake lines weren't simply faulty. They were tampered with."

The room went very still.

Marcus leaned forward. "You're certain?"

"I had the original wreckage examined by three independent experts," Samuel said. "All three confirmed the same thing — clean cuts on the brake lines, made with precision tools. This wasn't an accident, Mr. Mercer. It was murder."

Logan's hands, resting on the table, didn't move. But his knuckles went white.

"Who?" His voice was quiet. Dangerously quiet.

Samuel hesitated. "That's where the trail becomes complicated. The mechanic who last serviced the vehicle disappeared two weeks after your mother's death. No forwarding address, no records, nothing. But I did find financial records showing a deposit of fifty thousand dollars into his account three days before the crash. The money came from an offshore account."

"Whose account?" Logan asked.

"That's what I'm still working to uncover," Samuel said carefully. "The shell companies are layered. But I have a lead. One of the holding companies that funneled the payment has ties to someone within your family's inner circle."

Logan's expression didn't change, but something cold and terrible settled behind his eyes. "My family."

"I can't confirm who yet," Samuel said quickly. "But I wanted you to know what we've found so far. This wasn't random. Someone with resources, with connections, wanted your mother dead. And they went to great lengths to cover their tracks."

Logan was silent for a long moment, staring at the folder in front of him as if it contained a live grenade.

Finally, he spoke. "Keep digging. I want names. I want proof. I want everything."

"You'll have it," Samuel promised. "No matter how long it takes."

Marcus cleared his throat gently. "Sir, if you need additional resources — investigators, legal support, anything — Imperial Group's entire network is at your disposal."

Logan nodded once, his gaze still fixed on the folder. "Thank you."

They ate in relative silence after that, the weight of the revelation hanging over the table like smoke. Logan barely tasted the food. His mind was elsewhere — circling through memories of his mother, of the night she died, of the years he had spent believing it was just a tragic accident.

Someone in his family had killed her.

And they thought they had gotten away with it.

By the time the meal ended, Logan felt like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap.

"I'll be in touch within the week," Samuel said as they stood. "The moment I have more information, you'll know."

"I appreciate it," Logan said quietly.

Marcus walked him to the private elevator. "Are you all right, sir?"

Logan glanced at him. "I will be."

The elevator doors opened, and Logan stepped inside. Marcus remained on the top floor, watching him with concern as the doors slid shut.

Logan descended alone, his reflection staring back at him from the polished steel walls.

Murder.

The word echoed in his mind like a drumbeat.

The elevator reached the ground floor and the doors opened.

Logan stepped out into the main lobby — and immediately heard a voice he recognized.

"I'm telling you, Brandon, it's pathetic. He actually followed me here like some lovesick puppy. I can't believe I wasted years of my life on someone so desperate."

Logan turned.

Vivian stood near the entrance to the third-floor dining area, her arm linked with Brandon Holt's. She looked radiant in a black dress that probably cost more than most people's rent, her hair swept up elegantly, her expression sharp and disdainful.

And she was looking directly at him.

Brandon noticed Logan too, his expression hardening. "Is that him?"

"Unfortunately," Vivian said coldly.

Logan walked toward the exit, intending to pass them without acknowledgment.

But Vivian stepped directly into his path.

"What are you doing here, Logan?" Her voice was ice. "Did you follow me? Is that it? Can't handle the fact that I've moved on, so you had to sneak into a restaurant you can't even afford just to stalk me?"

Logan stopped, his expression unreadable. "I came here for dinner. It has nothing to do with you."

Vivian laughed — a sharp, mocking sound. "Dinner. Right. You expect me to believe you just happened to show up at the most exclusive restaurant in the city on the same night I'm here? Please, Logan. You're not that clever."

Brandon stepped forward, his chest puffed out. "Look, buddy, I don't know how you conned your way past security, but you need to leave. Now. Before I have you removed."

Logan's gaze flicked to Brandon, then back to Vivian. "I'm leaving. There's nothing here worth my time."

"Of course you're leaving," Vivian said, her voice dripping with contempt. "Because you don't belong here. You never did. Look at you — standing in the lobby like a lost tourist. You probably couldn't even get past the second floor, could you? No membership. No connections. No value."

She gestured upward with a manicured hand. "Brandon has a platinum card. We dined on the third floor tonight. Do you know who's upstairs right now? On the top floor? Samuel Wright. The president of the entire Creston City Chamber of Commerce. And Marcus Reed, the CEO of Imperial Group. They're hosting a distinguished guest — someone so important that the entire restaurant is bending over backward to accommodate them."

Her smile was vicious. "That's the kind of world Brandon and I live in now, Logan. A world of power. Influence. Real connections. You? You're not even qualified to clean the toilets in a place like this."

Brandon smirked. "She's right. You're out of your depth here, pal. Way out."

Logan looked at Vivian for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

It was a small smile. Quiet. Almost amused.

Brandon’s smirk faltered. "What’s so funny?"

Logan’s gaze sharpened, the amusement in his eyes cutting like a blade.

"That ‘distinguished guest’ they were entertaining?"

He took a step forward, lowering his voice slightly.

"That was me."