Chapter 18 - THE WHISPER OF PARANOIA
The ride back to the Sterling estate felt like moving through a cold, silent vacuum.
I sat in the back of the armored sedan, staring out the tinted window into the heavy night rain.
Beside me in the front passenger seat sat Arthur, his silver hair neatly combed, reviewing the legal dockets.
"The district attorney confirms that Julian’s bail has been denied without possibility of bond," Arthur said softly.
"And the Cross syndicate assets at Terminal Nine have been fully seized by federal authorities."
I looked at the back of Arthur’s head, my father’s oldest and most trusted advisor.
Arthur had been with my family for thirty-four years.
He had held my hand at my father’s funeral; he had guided me through the secret probate hearings.
Could Julian be telling the truth, or was he planting a poison pill to shatter my sanity from his prison cell?
"Arthur," I spoke, my voice steady despite the hurricane brewing inside my chest.
"Yes, Ms. Sterling?" he replied, turning slightly in his seat with respectful deference.
"I want the archival server logs from five years ago," I said.
"Specifically the forensic financial records from the second week of October."
Arthur’s hands paused above his tablet screen for a fraction of a second.
It was barely perceptible, a micro-flinch that only someone who had watched human behavior for eight years could catch.
"May I ask what you are looking for, Clara?" Arthur asked, using my first name for the first time in months.
"A routine compliance check, Arthur," I lied smoothly.
"The federal audit requires a five-year lookback period to clear our accounts completely."
"Of course," Arthur replied, returning his gaze to the road.
"I will have the archival team compile the encrypted drives by tomorrow afternoon."
"No," I said quietly.
"I want direct root access to the master server room tonight."
May you like
Arthur swallowed hard, his silhouette rigid against the rainy streetlights outside.
"As you wish, Ms. Sterling," he answered.
