Chapter 6 - The Ashes of Cole Holdings
The ink on the acquisition documents was barely dry when Gabriel’s forensic accounting team began scrubbing every server, hard drive, and ledger associated with the defunct Cole Holdings. By 8:00 AM, the corporate headquarters downtown—a sleek monolith of glass and steel bearing the Cole name in massive bronze letters—became the center of a media firestorm. Reporters and camera crews swarmed the plaza, broadcasting live feeds of federal agents carrying out boxes of evidence while demolition crews stood by to remove the iconic corporate signage.
Down in the subterranean holding facilities of the estate, Richard and Margaret Cole sat in stunned silence, their minds still refusing to accept the brutal reality of their downfall. Adrian, meanwhile, paced frantically back and forth across the concrete floor, his expensive Italian leather shoes echoing hollowly against the walls.
"We need a lawyer," Adrian muttered, his voice cracking with rising hysteria as he grabbed the iron bars of his cell. "Where is our legal team? Where are the partners we funded for a decade?"
"They’re too busy billing my firm to shred their own incriminating files, you absolute fool," Luca said smoothly as he strolled down the corridor, his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his charcoal trousers. He stopped in front of Adrian’s cell, a cool, detached smile playing on his lips.
Richard staggered to his feet, gripping the bars next to his son. "Luca, please. We were family by marriage. Surely we can negotiate a settlement. A fraction of our assets—just enough to start over overseas."
"Family?" Luca’s gaze turned razor-sharp, stripping away any pretense of politeness. "You treated my sister like a stray dog. You ordered her to be whipped because of a spilled glass of wine. In the eyes of the law, you’re corporate criminals facing twenty years. In the eyes of the Moretti family, you’re already dead."
Upstairs in the grand master suite, I stood before a towering mahogany vanity, examining the healing bruises on my shoulders in the mirror. The purple and black discoloration was slowly fading into a dull yellow, a visual testament to the pain I had endured and left behind. My phone buzzed continuously against the marble countertop—notifications from high-society acquaintances, panicked investors, and opportunistic socialites who had once ignored me or laughed at Margaret’s cruel remarks, now begging for a moment of my time.
I picked up the device, selected a group chat containing the city’s most influential elites, and blocked every single one of them. My old life was dead. The submissive, invisible Elena Moretti had ceased to exist the moment that leather whip struck my skin.
Nico stepped quietly into the bedroom, holding a sleek black tablet. "El, the final asset transfers have cleared. Every shell company, every overseas account in the Cayman Islands and Switzerland, and all remaining real estate holdings have been fully absorbed into Moretti Global Ventures. Cole Holdings is officially a ghost."
I turned away from the mirror, meeting my brother's steady, approving gaze. "And Vanessa Hart?"
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"Vanished," Nico replied with a cold smirk. "Her bank accounts were frozen alongside the Coles'. She tried to board a private flight to Zurich an hour ago, but my contacts at the aviation authority intercepted her passport. She’s currently sitting in a local precinct answering questions about corporate embezzlement."
"Good," I said quietly, adjusting the collar of my silk blouse. "Let her experience what it feels like to have nothing."
