Chapter 48 - The Vienna Connection
The boardroom fell into dead silence. Even the high-priced New York litigators beside Cross shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
Cross did not blink. His arctic blue eyes remained fixed on Arthur’s weathered leather journal. "A romantic fairy tale, Clara. Arthur was always fond of creative writing. A handwritten diary holds zero evidentiary weight against an apostilled treaty document signed by the Supreme Court of Vienna."
"It wouldn't," Julian Sterling countered, pulling a secure satellite tablet from his leather briefcase and connecting it to the boardroom’s massive digital presentation screen. "Unless the Austrian tribunal based its ruling on fabricated affidavits."
The giant display flashed to life, revealing an encrypted banking transaction trail originating from a private account at the Bank of Liechtenstein and routing directly into a numbered vault in Vienna.
"Three days ago," Julian said, his voice rising with prosecutorial cadence, "the forensic accounting team we mobilized in Zurich uncovered an interesting anomaly. While Richard Vance was draining eighty million dollars from Clara’s domestic trusts, five million dollars was sent directly to the chief registrar of the Austrian Commercial Court—the very registrar who authenticated Cross's survival claim without notifying the United States Department of State."
Victoria Vance’s smug smile began to fray around the edges. She turned slightly toward Cross, whose fingers tightened imperceptibly around his cane.
"Furthermore," Julian continued, advancing the slide to reveal high-resolution surveillance photographs taken inside a private clinic outside Geneva, "Sterling Cross didn't spend the last forty-four years in exile waiting for justice. He spent them managing an illicit syndicate in Eastern Europe under the alias 'Victor von Halen'—a syndicate that funneled black-market antiquities and weapons through the logistics channels Richard Vance secretly carved out of Miller Global."
Derek leaned over the boardroom table, planting both palms flat against the glass, staring directly across at Cross. "You didn't come back for Oakridge because my father wronged you. You came back because the European authorities dismantled your Vienna network last month. You’re broke, Cross. You spent your last forty million dollars buying off my ex-fiancée’s sister and forging documents to steal this company so you could liquidate its physical assets to pay off Russian creditors."
The color rapidly drained from Victoria Vance’s face. She looked at Cross, panic bleeding through her composed mask. "Sterling... is this true? You told me the Austrian funds were sovereign treasury reserves!"
"Silence, you idiot!" Cross snapped, his calm facade shattering for a fleeting second, exposing the snarling, cornered beast beneath. He slammed his cane against the floor. "It doesn't matter where the money came from! The legal title to Oakridge has already been recorded in Providence! The physical eviction notice has been signed by the sheriff’s office! By sundown, your mother’s furniture will be on the street!"
"No, it won't," I said softly, reaching into my handbag and producing a single folded sheet of paper with a crimson wax seal. "Because you made one fatal mistake, Sterling."
Cross sneered. "And what mistake was that, Clara?"
"You assumed Arthur kept the original charter in the Boston vault," I said. "Arthur knew you were a snake from the day he met you in Newport. When he built Oakridge in 1982, he didn't put the cornerstone of the house in the ground. He hid the actual, unamended 1979 tripartite charter inside the structural foundation beneath the library hearth. The charter that explicitly states: *Any claim by a surviving partner must be physically executed on the grounds of Oakridge, with the physical original document in hand, before the setting of the sun on the day of demand.*"
May you like
I pointed toward the boardroom window. Outside, the gray sky was already darkening into twilight.
"You have two hours before sunset, Sterling," I said, a cold, serene smile spreading across my lips. "And while you've been sitting in this boardroom trying to intimidate our shareholders, my security detail has locked every gate, every window, and every vault at Oakridge. If you want my home... you'll have to come and take it yourself."
