The Misdirection
"Andrew didn't build Origin," Victor said softly.
The shadows of the warehouse seemed to elongate around him.
"He inherited a machine that was already running. And he has spent the last five years trying to figure out how to dismantle it without getting crushed in the gears."
Julie's breath hitched.
"You expect me to believe Andrew is a victim?"
Victor chuckled. A dry, scraping sound.
"Andrew Scott is no one's victim. But he is a pragmatist. When your father found the discrepancies, Andrew tried to buy him off. To silence him safely. It was the board that decided Daniel Patrick was too loud to live."
The floor seemed to drop out from beneath her.
"And you?" she asked, her voice trembling with a dangerous kind of clarity. "What was your vote, Victor?"
He didn't blink.
"I voted for efficiency."
Bile rose in her throat.
She took a step back, her hand instinctively reaching for the pocket where she kept Ethan's micro-drive.
"You're telling me this because you want me to turn on him," Julie stated.
"I'm telling you this because Andrew has become unpredictable," Victor corrected. "He was supposed to marry you to neutralize the threat you posed. Keep your enemies close. Keep them monitored. But he refused to sign the liquidation orders for your lawyer friend today. He hesitated. And hesitation in our world is a terminal disease."
Victor took a step closer.
"Give me the drive, Julie. The one you took from his office."
She froze.
They knew.
"I don't have it."
"You do," a new voice echoed through the cavernous space.
Julie spun around.
Andrew stood in the doorway.
No driver. No security detail.
Just him.
His charcoal suit was damp from the river mist. His eyes were locked on Victor, but the fury in them was radiating so intensely that Julie could feel it from ten feet away.
"Step away from my wife, Victor."
The word hung in the air.
Wife.
Not liability. Not leverage.
Victor sighed, adjusting his cuffs.
"You tracked her phone. Predictable."
"I tracked yours," Andrew replied coldly.
He closed the distance between them, stepping directly in front of Julie. A human shield made of bespoke wool and controlled violence.
"The board has convened, Andrew," Victor warned. "You are out. The moment the market opens tomorrow, you are a civilian."
"I own fifty-one percent of the holding companies that funnel your offshore accounts," Andrew countered, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "If I am out, the accounts are frozen. If the accounts are frozen, the feds will be knocking on your door by noon."
Victor's composure finally cracked. Just a hairline fracture, but Julie saw it.
"You would destroy your own legacy just to keep this girl?"
Andrew didn't look at Julie.
He kept his eyes on the man who had ordered her parents' deaths.
"My legacy," Andrew said, "is making sure men like you don't survive."