Chapter 3 — The Woman in My Penthouse
Chapter 3 — The Woman in My Penthouse
At 7:03 the next morning, Vivian woke up in Elena's bed.
She stretched beneath white Egyptian cotton sheets and smiled.
For the first time in eight months, she didn't have to sneak out before sunrise.
She didn't have to delete messages.
She didn't have to invent excuses.
She didn't have to wait for Julian to tell her when it was safe to be seen.
She was finally where she believed she belonged.
The Mercer penthouse.
Her penthouse now.
Or at least, that's what Julian had promised.
Vivian turned her head toward the empty side of the bed.
Julian wasn't there.
She wasn't worried.
He had told her he would be in the office early.
There were papers to sign.
Calls to make.
A divorce to begin.
A company to reorganize.
A wife to erase.
Vivian smiled again.
Then she noticed the emerald necklace lying on the nightstand.
She picked it up.
The stone caught the morning sunlight.
Beautiful.
Cold.
Expensive.
She put it around her neck.
For a moment, she imagined herself standing beside Julian at the next investors' gala.
Not as the mistress.
Not as the woman hidden behind hotel doors.
But as Mrs. Mercer.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
"Finally."
The word escaped as a whisper.
Then her phone rang.
Julian.
She answered immediately.
"Good morning."
"Are you alone?"
Vivian frowned.
"Of course."
"Lock the bedroom door."
Her smile disappeared.
"Why?"
"Just do it."
She walked toward the door.
"Julian, what's happening?"
"Did anyone contact you?"
"No."
"Your brother?"
"No."
"Anyone from the company?"
"No."
Julian exhaled.
"Good."
Vivian leaned against the door.
"You're scaring me."
"I'm trying to keep you safe."
"From Elena?"
There was silence.
Then Julian said:
"Especially from Elena."
Vivian almost laughed.
"She was thrown out."
"I know."
"She has nothing."
Another pause.
"You don't understand."
"What don't I understand?"
Julian lowered his voice.
"She's not who you think she is."
Vivian looked toward the window.
The ocean stretched endlessly beneath the glass.
"What does that mean?"
"I'll explain when I get back."
"When?"
"Soon."
"Julian—"
He hung up.
Vivian stared at the phone.
Her stomach tightened.
She walked back toward the bedroom.
For the first time since last night, she looked at the penthouse differently.
The artwork.
The furniture.
The enormous dining table.
The private bar.
The panoramic windows.
The master suite.
Everything suddenly felt less like a reward.
More like evidence.
She walked into the dressing room.
Hundreds of dresses hung inside.
Most of them belonged to Elena.
Vivian touched a silk gown.
Then another.
She smiled.
It didn't matter.
Soon, all of it would be hers.
Julian had promised.
He had promised everything.
She just had to wait.
Across town, Elena was standing in front of a wall covered with documents.
She hadn't slept.
Neither had the lawyers.
Neither had her father.
The conference room at Vale Family Holdings was filled with people Elena hadn't seen in years.
Trust attorneys.
Corporate counsel.
Accountants.
Asset managers.
Regional directors.
People who had spent decades managing pieces of the family empire without ever appearing in public.
At the head of the table sat Richard.
Elena stood beside him.
A large screen displayed a map of the world.
Dots marked the locations of the family's properties.
Seventeen major resorts.
Dozens of smaller assets.
Private residences.
Commercial properties.
Investment companies.
Land holdings.
Elena stared at the map.
"I knew we were wealthy."
Richard looked at her.
"You had no idea."
"Apparently not."
One of the attorneys, Margaret Shaw, slid a folder toward her.
"Mrs. Vale—"
"Elena."
Margaret nodded.
"Elena, these are the current ownership structures."
Elena opened the folder.
The first page listed the flagship resort.
The next showed the European properties.
Then Asia.
Then the Middle East.
Her eyes widened.
"This is worth..."
Margaret answered quietly.
"Significantly more than the public estimates."
"How much?"
Margaret looked toward Richard.
He gave a slight nod.
She named a figure.
Elena stopped breathing.
She knew the family was wealthy.
But she had never understood the scale.
She had spent nine years thinking of herself as an ordinary woman married to an ambitious businessman.
She wasn't.
She was the protected beneficiary of a hospitality fortune built over generations.
And Julian had spent nine years standing in front of that fortune pretending it was his.
Elena closed the folder.
"I don't want any of this."
Richard frowned.
"You don't get to choose whether you own it."
"I don't mean that."
She looked around the room.
"I don't want to become him."
Nobody spoke.
"I don't want money to become the reason I hurt people."
Her father studied her for several seconds.
"That's exactly why it was always meant to be yours."
Elena looked away.
Then Margaret spoke.
"There is another issue."
"What?"
She placed a separate folder on the table.
"Your husband has been moving funds."
Elena's expression hardened.
"How much?"
"We don't know yet."
"Then find out."
"We already started."
Margaret opened the folder.
"There are transfers between several operating companies."
"Which companies?"
"Three holding entities."
She pointed to the screen.
"All connected to Julian."
Elena stared at the names.
"They're shell companies."
"Yes."
"Where is the money going?"
"We're tracing it."
"How long?"
"Possibly several hours."
Elena nodded.
Then she remembered the message from the previous night.
Vivian wasn't the first woman.
She looked at Margaret.
"Can you investigate Julian's personal relationships over the last five years?"
Richard looked at her.
"Elena."
"I need to know."
Her father didn't argue.
Margaret nodded.
"We'll do it."
"Quietly."
"Of course."
Elena stood.
"I want every hotel reservation, private flight, expense account, and corporate card associated with Julian."
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
"All of it?"
"All of it."
Richard looked at his daughter.
She had changed overnight.
Not hardened.
Not cruel.
Just awake.
At 9:41 a.m., Vivian heard a knock.
She opened the penthouse door.
A man in a dark suit stood outside.
"Ms. Laurent?"
"Yes?"
"Delivery."
She looked at the box.
"I didn't order anything."
"It's from Mr. Mercer."
She smiled.
"Bring it in."
The man stepped inside.
He placed the box on the table.
Vivian opened it.
Inside was a diamond bracelet.
A note sat beneath it.
For my future wife.
Vivian's heart raced.
She touched the bracelet.
Then smiled.
She picked up her phone.
She took a photograph.
For a few seconds, she stared at it.
Then she deleted it.
Not yet.
She couldn't risk anyone seeing it.
She put the bracelet back.
The front door opened.
Vivian turned.
Julian walked inside.
His expression was completely different from the man she had seen last night.
No smile.
No champagne.
No confidence.
His tie was loose.
His face was pale.
She immediately noticed.
"What happened?"
He closed the door.
"Where's the bracelet?"
She pointed toward the box.
"Why?"
"Because I made a mistake."
Vivian stared at him.
"What kind of mistake?"
Julian walked to the windows.
He looked down at the city.
"Elena's father knows."
Vivian's heart skipped.
"Knows what?"
"Everything."
"About us?"
"That too."
She swallowed.
"What does that mean?"
Julian turned.
"It means we have to move faster."
"Move where?"
"Out."
She stared at him.
"You said everything was secure."
"It was."
"What changed?"
"Elena."
Vivian laughed nervously.
"She's one woman."
Julian's eyes hardened.
"You still don't understand."
He walked toward her.
"Do you know who owns this building?"
Vivian hesitated.
"You."
"No."
She frowned.
"Then who?"
Julian didn't answer.
"Julian."
He looked away.
"This penthouse is part of a trust."
Vivian stared at him.
"What trust?"
"Vale."
She felt the color drain from her face.
"Elena's family?"
He nodded.
"So?"
"So if they activate the trust, they can terminate our access."
Vivian laughed.
"You're joking."
"I'm not."
"But you told me the divorce would give you control."
"It would have."
"Would have?"
Julian looked at her.
"Stop asking questions."
Her voice sharpened.
"No."
He frowned.
"I need to know what's happening."
"You don't need to know everything."
"Then tell me what you promised me."
He stared at her.
"What?"
"The resort."
Silence.
"You promised me the resort in Miami."
"I know."
"And the one in Monaco."
"I know."
"You said they would be ours after the divorce."
"I said I'd take care of you."
"That's not what you said."
Julian's jaw tightened.
Vivian stepped closer.
"You said I'd have a resort."
He didn't answer.
"You said I would be Mrs. Mercer."
"I know what I said."
"Then why are you acting like you're afraid?"
That question hit him.
Julian looked at her.
For the first time, Vivian saw something she had never seen in him before.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not anger.
Not irritation.
Fear.
She stepped back.
"What aren't you telling me?"
Julian walked toward the bar.
He poured himself a drink.
"It's complicated."
"Everything is complicated when you're lying."
He turned sharply.
"Watch yourself."
Vivian crossed her arms.
"You need me."
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
She stared at him.
Julian realized his mistake.
He softened his voice.
"I mean, I don't want you involved."
"I am already involved."
She pointed toward the bedroom.
"I slept in your wife's bed."
She pointed toward the emerald around her neck.
"I'm wearing her grandmother's necklace."
Then she pointed toward the box.
"You gave me a diamond and promised me a future."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Don't tell me I'm not involved."
Julian said nothing.
Vivian took a breath.
"Tell me the truth."
He looked at her.
Then finally said:
"Elena's family owns the land."
Vivian blinked.
"So?"
"The resorts are built on that land."
"Okay."
"The operating companies don't own the land."
She stared at him.
"Then who does?"
"Vale."
Her lips parted.
"All of them?"
"Most."
"And you?"
"I control the operating companies."
"Control?"
"Yes."
"Own?"
He didn't answer.
Vivian's voice dropped.
"You don't own them."
Julian looked away.
She understood.
The room suddenly felt enormous.
All those years.
All those parties.
All those photographs.
All those interviews.
The headlines calling Julian Mercer a hospitality genius.
And now she was discovering that the man she had chosen might not own what he claimed.
"How much do you actually own?"
Julian's silence was answer enough.
Vivian laughed.
But there was no humor in it.
"This is insane."
"You knew I was ambitious."
"I didn't know you were pretending."
His face hardened.
"I'm not pretending."
"You told me this was your empire."
"It is."
"No."
She shook her head.
"It's hers."
Julian stepped forward.
"Don't say that."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want you repeating it."
Vivian stared at him.
Then she smiled slowly.
"You're scared of Elena."
Julian's expression changed.
"I am not afraid of my wife."
"Ex-wife."
"Soon."
Vivian walked toward the bedroom.
She stopped beside the bed.
Then looked down at the sheets.
"She slept here."
Julian didn't answer.
"She lived here."
"Yes."
"And you brought me into her home."
"Yes."
Vivian looked at him.
"And now you're telling me she could take everything back."
Julian stared at the floor.
Vivian whispered:
"Maybe I chose the wrong man."
He looked up.
"What did you say?"
"Nothing."
She smiled.
"Nothing."
At 11:26 a.m., Elena received the first report.
She was sitting in her father's office when Margaret entered.
"We found something."
Elena looked up.
"What?"
Margaret placed a tablet on the desk.
"Payments."
"How many?"
"Thirty-seven."
"To whom?"
Margaret hesitated.
"Several people."
"Names."
"Vivian Laurent."
Elena's expression didn't change.
"How much?"
"Over eight hundred thousand dollars."
Richard looked up from his papers.
"Personal expenses?"
"Mostly."
Elena studied the numbers.
"Anything else?"
Margaret nodded.
"There's a second recipient."
She tapped the screen.
A company name appeared.
LUMEN ADVISORY GROUP.
Elena frowned.
"What is that?"
"Consulting company."
"Owned by?"
Margaret looked at Richard.
"Vivian's brother."
Silence.
Elena leaned back.
"How long?"
"Three years."
Three years.
Long before Vivian appeared publicly.
Elena's eyes narrowed.
"Then this isn't just an affair."
"No."
Margaret opened another file.
"There's more."
She displayed a series of transactions.
Millions of dollars.
Transfers between Julian's companies.
Payments to Lumen Advisory.
Then money moving elsewhere.
Elena followed the chain.
"Where does it end?"
Margaret zoomed in.
A private investment fund.
Elena read the name.
Northstar Capital Partners.
Her father's face changed.
"You know it?"
Richard nodded slowly.
"I've heard of them."
"Who owns it?"
"We don't know."
Elena looked at him.
"Find out."
Margaret nodded.
Then Elena noticed something.
A transaction dated four years ago.
The amount was relatively small.
Only $50,000.
But the description made her blood run cold.
INITIAL CONSULTING — V.L.
She stared at the screen.
"Vivian Laurent."
Margaret nodded.
"Yes."
"Four years ago."
"Correct."
Elena remembered the message from the previous night.
Vivian wasn't the first woman.
She looked at her father.
"Dad."
"Yes?"
"How old is Vivian?"
"Thirty-one."
"How old was she four years ago?"
"Twenty-seven."
Elena stared at the screen.
"Then she was already working with him before I knew her name."
Richard nodded.
"Apparently."
Elena stood.
"I want everything."
"Everything?"
"Every connection between Julian, Vivian, her brother, Northstar Capital, and anyone else involved."
Margaret nodded.
"We'll have it."
Elena walked toward the window.
Below her, the city moved as if nothing had changed.
People were going to work.
Cars were moving through traffic.
Restaurants were opening.
Hotels were checking guests in.
And somewhere across town, Julian was probably still telling himself he could fix this.
Elena almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Then her phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number.
She answered.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice came through.
Soft.
Calm.
Older.
"Elena Vale?"
"Yes."
"I think you need to know what your husband did four years ago."
Elena's grip tightened around the phone.
"Who is this?"
The woman didn't answer.
Instead, she said:
"Ask him about the woman named Claire."
Elena froze.
"Who is Claire?"
The line went dead.
She stared at the phone.
Richard watched her.
"What happened?"
Elena slowly lowered it.
"Someone just told me to ask Julian about Claire."
Her father went completely still.
"You know that name?"
Richard's silence was enough.
Elena stared at him.
"Dad."
He looked away.
"Who is Claire?"
For the first time since she had entered the room, Richard looked genuinely troubled.
"I was hoping you would never have to know."
Elena's heart began pounding.
"What did Julian do?"
Richard didn't answer.
And somewhere across the city, inside the penthouse Elena had once called home, Vivian stood before the mirror wearing the emerald necklace.
She smiled at her reflection.
Then her phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
He hasn't told you everything.
Vivian frowned.
Another message arrived.
He never does.
She stared at the screen.
Then came the final message.
Ask him who Claire was.
Vivian's smile disappeared.
She slowly touched the emerald at her throat.
For the first time, both women were asking the same question.
May you like
Who was Claire?
And why had Julian spent four years making sure nobody ever spoke her name?
