Chapter 5 - The Ledger of Blood
"Recognize this handwriting, Richard?" Genevieve asked, holding the document high so the zoom lenses of the press could capture every single stroke. "It's the original ledger of the offshore shell corporation, Blue Meridian Ltd."
Richard froze, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
"Three years ago, you told the prosecutors that Blue Meridian was an unauthorized side venture created by me to siphon company funds," Genevieve continued, her voice ringing with the cold clarity of a final judgment. "You swore under federal oath that you had never seen this company's incorporation charter, and that you had no knowledge of its banking ties in Zurich."
She turned the document around, pointing to the bottom right corner where a red wax seal bore the crest of the Sterling family ring.
"This is the founding certificate of Blue Meridian, signed by you, witnessed by your personal notary, and funded with the twenty-five-million-dollar inheritance your grandmother left in trust," Genevieve announced. "Every single dollar moved through that account was authorized by your biometric signature at the private vault of Banque de Genève. And your late banker kept the physical duplicate right here."
Richard swayed on his feet, his knees trembling. The entire foundation of his three-decade career—his untouchable reputation, his social standing, his spotless moral facade—was crumbling to dust before the very peers he had spent his life trying to impress.
"Where... where did you get that?" Richard rasped, clutching his chest as beads of cold sweat rolled down his forehead into his collar. "Arthur swore he destroyed all the physical records before he went to prison..."
"Arthur hated you, Richard," Genevieve replied with a bitter, triumphant smile. "He hated you because you left him to die in prison with a public defender while you bought a yacht in Monaco. He gave me the key to his safety deposit box in Lichtenstein the day before he died. He told me, 'Give it to the world when Richard feels safest.' And what safer place than your daughter’s society wedding?"
"You witch," Beatrice shrieked, suddenly lunging at Genevieve from behind the head table, her manicured nails aimed at Genevieve’s face. "You ruined my life! You ruined my wedding!"
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Before Beatrice could take two steps, I caught her wrist in midair, my grip like an iron vise. I looked down into her tear-streaked face with absolute, unyielding coldness.
"Do not touch her," I said softly, the lethal promise in my tone causing Beatrice to freeze in terror. "You don't belong in the same room as Genevieve Croft."
