Chapter 14 - The Broken Prince
By five in the afternoon, the wire confirmation chattered through the secure terminal—seventy-two million dollars transferred directly from Singapore into an independent account in Zurich, bypassing every injunction Victoria had bought. The island’s payroll was secured, the supply barges were cleared, and Victoria’s leverage evaporated like sea foam on hot sand.
Then came the unexpected casualty.
A skiff sputtered toward the service pier, far away from Victoria’s gleaming superyacht. Kaelen radioed from the security checkpoint, his tone tinged with disgust. "Ma'am, you need to see who just washed up on the south beach."
When I arrived in the golf cart with Julian, Kaelen’s men were holding a bedraggled figure against the rusted rail of the dock.
It was Richard.
The bespoke tailored suits were gone, replaced by a salt-stained polo shirt and rumpled khakis. His face was unshaven, haggard, and burned raw by the sun. He looked twenty pounds lighter, the hollowed-out shell of the golden boy who had once commanded boardrooms. When he saw me step onto the pier, he stumbled forward, nearly falling to his knees before Kaelen caught him by the collar.
"Olivia... please," Richard rasped, his voice cracked with dehydration and panic. "Don't let my mother do this. You don't know what she’s capable of."
I stood ten feet away, refusing to let him close the distance. "What are you doing here, Richard? Did Victoria run out of room on her yacht for the son she’s trying to avenge?"
"She isn't here to avenge me!" Richard yelled, his hands trembling violently. "She disowned me! The moment Sloane’s paternity test went public, my mother cut me off from the trust entirely! She’s liquidating everything to cover her own offshore debts. If she gets control of this island, she’s going to sell it to a private military contractor for a naval refueling depot!"
I watched him with detached curiosity. His misery was absolute, but it carried no dignity.
"And Sloane?" I asked smoothly. "Where is the woman you abandoned your wife in a category five hurricane for?"
Richard flinched as if struck across the face. "She vanished three days ago. She took the remaining cash from the emergency account, left her apartment in Brickell, and mailed me this."
He reached into his pocket with trembling fingers, pulling out a heavy, tarnished brass key attached to a numbered tag from a private vault in San Juan, Puerto Rico.
May you like
"What is this, Richard?" Julian asked, stepping between us.
"It’s the safe-deposit box Sloane kept hidden," Richard choked out, tears cutting tracks through the grime on his cheeks. "She wasn't just a corporate spy, Olivia. She wasn't working for me, and she wasn't working for my mother. She left a note on my mirror. It just said: *‘Check the ledger before Olivia burns down the family tree.’*"
