Chapter 4 - The Ledger of Debts
Ava sat on the edge of a velvet armchair in the master suite, wrapped in a plush, white cashmere robe provided by the hotel staff.
Her wet department-store dress had been taken away by a silent, professional housekeeper, along with her champagne-soaked shoes. On the marble coffee table in front of her sat a steaming cup of chamomile tea, a plate of fresh fruit, and a thick, blue leather folder.
Across from her, Julian Vance sat on a matching sofa. He had rolled up his white dress shirt sleeves to his elbows, revealing thick, muscular forearms corded with veins and a faint, thin scar running across his left wrist.
"Drink your tea," Julian said smoothly, taking a sip from his own black coffee cup.
Ava didn't touch the tea. She sat up straight, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "Mr. Vance, I need an explanation. A real one. You didn't just pretend to be my fiancé to put Damian in his place. You could have done that simply by calling security or pulling his boss aside. Announcing a fake engagement to a titan of Wall Street isn't a gesture of chivalry. It's a strategic move. What are you playing at?"
Julian set his coffee cup down on the glass table with a soft clink.
"You are smarter than eighty percent of the hedge-fund managers I deal with daily," Julian remarked, his eyes gleaming with mild approval. "Very well. Let us talk strategy."
He reached forward and tapped the blue leather folder.
"Open it."
Ava hesitated, then reached out and flipped the cover open.
Inside were thirty pages of meticulously documented financial records, bank statements, wire transfers, and tax filings. At the top of the first page, printed in bold black letters, was a name she knew intimately: DAMIAN CROSS.
Ava’s eyes scanned the numbers. Her breath hitched.
"This... this is his financial history," she murmured.
"It is his true financial history," Julian corrected. "Not the padded, glorified resume he presented to Sterling North Capital. Damian Cross did not graduate in the top ten percent of his business school class. He passed his finals because he hired a proxy to sit two of his exams. And that $4,800 fee he claimed was a 'lapsed scholarship'?"
Julian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"He didn't lose his financial aid, Ava. He lost that money playing high-stakes illegal poker in a basement club on East Fifty-Fourth Street. He lost it, panicked, and came to you because he knew you would starve before you let him fail."
Ava’s hand trembled against the paper. The memory hit her like a physical blow: coming home at two in the morning from her second job, finding Damian sitting on the floor of their dark apartment, his face in his hands, weeping, telling her that the university was going to revoke his registration if he couldn't pay the balance by morning. She had spent six hours on the phone transferring her life savings, wiping out her emergency fund down to twelve dollars and fourteen cents.
"He lied to me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Every word that came out of his mouth for four years was a lie designed to extract resources from you," Julian said coldly. "He used your labor, your money, and your spirit as fuel to climb into a world he didn't have the talent to reach on his own."
"Why do you have these records?" Ava looked up, her brown eyes blazing with sudden suspicion. "Why were you investigating my ex-boyfriend?"
"I wasn't investigating your ex-boyfriend," Julian said flatly. "I was investigating Sterling North Capital. They are currently attempting to close a four-hundred-million-dollar acquisition of a logistics firm that I happen to own. Damian Cross was brought on as the lead analyst for the deal. I do not do business with firms that employ fraudulent, weak-willed boys who steal from women."
He paused, letting the silence settle over the room.
"However," Julian continued, "the announcement I made tonight creates a temporary... complication."
"A complication?" Ava scoffed softly. "You called me your fiancée!"
"And within twenty minutes," Julian said, checking his watch, "that news has reached the front page of every major financial news outlet in the Western Hemisphere. The Vance family line is conservative, traditional, and heavily scrutinized. My board has been demanding that I settle down and produce an heir for the past three years to stabilize our long-term stock valuations."
Ava stared at him. "You want me to fake an engagement with you."
"I want to offer you a contract," Julian corrected. He reached into the back of the folder and pulled out a single sheet of paper covered in dense legal text. "A six-month agreement. You will act as my fiancée in public. You will attend five major events by my side. You will move into my townhouse on the Upper East Side so the press sees a united front."
"And in exchange?" Ava asked, her throat dry.
Julian leaned back, resting his chin on his steepled fingers.
"In exchange, I will pay off your student loans tonight. I will buy out your contract at Bellmere Events and establish a fully funded, independent event production firm in your name, with a ten-million-dollar line of credit."
May you like
Ava gasped, the air leaving her lungs in a sharp whistle. "Ten... ten million?"
"And," Julian added, his slate-gray eyes locking onto hers with terrifying intensity, "I will personally see to it that Damian Cross never works in finance, real estate, or corporate consulting anywhere on the North American continent for the rest of his natural life."
