Chapter 2 - THE PENTHOUSE WAS NEVER HIS
Julian did not sleep.
Neither did Vanessa.
At 12:31, the penthouse elevator rejected Julian’s executive code.
At 12:36, the private wine cellar stopped recognizing his fingerprint.
At 12:42, the internal finance portal logged him out.
Vanessa’s confidence began to crack.
“What did Elena do?”
Julian snapped.
“Nothing she can make permanent.”
He called our chief financial officer.
No answer.
He called London.
Then Paris.
Then Singapore.
Every general manager gave him the same careful sentence.
“We’ve been instructed to suspend non-owner executive privileges pending review.”
“I am the owner!”
Nobody argued.
That was worse.
Meanwhile, Dad took me to Laurent House, the old family office I had avoided for nine years.
The building smelled like cedar, coffee, and childhood.
Our attorney, Miriam Cole, was waiting with six binders.
“Elena,” she said, “before we move, you need to understand what your grandfather built.”
I stared at the first ownership chart.
Vale International Hospitality owned management contracts.
Laurent Heritage Trust owned the flagship land.
A separate family company owned the Aurelia name.
Another owned the booking technology.
Julian controlled operations.
My family controlled the oxygen.
“Why did nobody tell him?” I asked.
Dad looked at me.
“You asked us not to.”
That answer hurt because it was true.
Nine years earlier, I had wanted Julian to believe every success was ours.
Not mine.
Not my family’s.
Ours.
Miriam slid one more document toward me.
“There is another problem.”
“What?”
“Julian tried to transfer the penthouse title three days ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“To whom?”
Miriam turned the page.
May you like
Vanessa Cross.
