Chapter 15 - The San Juan Secret
The brass key felt unnaturally heavy in my palm.
Richard was placed under guard in the auxiliary staff quarters, strictly quarantined from communications while Julian and I flew to Puerto Rico on the island’s private amphibious plane. The flight took less than two hours, but the tension inside the cabin was thicker than storm clouds.
The San Juan vault was located beneath an unassuming colonial bank in the historic district, shielded by thick limestone and biometric locks. Sloane had set up the box with dual authorization: her own thumbprint, or the physical key accompanied by a verification passphrase known only to Richard's legal spouse.
*She had known I would be the one to open it.*
When the bank officer pulled out the long metal drawer and left us alone in the private viewing room, Julian stood near the door, his hand resting instinctively near his jacket.
I lifted the lid.
Inside lay no jewels, no gold bars. There were only three items: a portable encrypted hard drive, a bundle of yellowed architectural blueprints of Vance Cay dating back to the late 1970s, and a personal journal bound in cracked leather.
I opened the journal. The handwriting was sharp, feminine, and meticulous—Sloane’s unmistakable script.
*To the Woman Who Survived the Roof:*
*If you’re reading this, Richard is broke, Victoria is desperate, and you have finally realized that the hurricane wasn't the first time the Vance family tried to drown you.*
*Look at the blueprints for the island's deep-water port, Section 4-B. Richard’s father didn't buy this island for a luxury resort. He bought it because the reef sits directly atop an unmapped undersea cave system used during the Cold War. In 1994, Victoria buried something beneath the foundation of the main villa—something that invalidates the entire Vance corporate charter if federal maritime authorities ever excavate it.*
*I was never Richard’s mistress for love, Olivia. I was hired by Victoria five years ago to find that ledger before you stumbled upon it during the resort renovations. But when Richard left you on that helipad, I realized that serving monsters only makes you bait.*
*Take them down. Burn it all.*
May you like
I set the journal down, my hands utterly steady. Julian leaned over the blueprints, tracing a finger over Section 4-B.
"Olivia," Julian whispered, his face pale under the fluorescent lights. "This isn't an environmental reserve. This entire island was purchased using blood money laundered through an illegal international arms syndicate. Victoria isn't fighting for legacy. She’s fighting because if you retain ownership, your audit will uncover the mass grave of their financial empire."
