Chapter 2 - The Books Never LieThe Presidential Suite of the Sterling Alpine Lodge occupied the entire top floor. It featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the jagged, snow-capped peaks of the Rockies, a private wraparound balcony, and a vault-like heavy oak door.
I peeled off the ruined cashmere sweater—my grandfather’s gift—and threw it into the marble sink. The water ran red as I tried to rinse out the wine, a stark, violent color against the pristine white porcelain.
My hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from the massive adrenaline dump of confronting Julian and Thomas in public. My grandfather, Arthur, had built this empire from a single, rundown ski lodge in the seventies. He had taught me to read balance sheets before I could drive. “Numbers don’t lie, El,” he used to say, sitting in his leather wingback chair, his lungs already beginning to fail him. “People lie. The books never do.”
A quiet knock echoed through the suite.
"Come in," I called out, pulling on a thick, dark turtleneck from my duffel bag.
The door opened, and Marcus slipped inside. He looked like a man walking to the gallows. He held a thick manila folder clutched to his chest.
"Ms. Sterling," he stammered, refusing to meet my eyes. "Your bags. And... I brought you this. You asked for the master ledgers."
"Sit down, Marcus," I said gently, walking out of the bathroom. I poured two glasses of sparkling water from the minibar and handed him one. "You look like you're about to pass out."
He took the glass with trembling fingers. "Julian is gone. He cleared out his desk. His fiancée—or whoever she was—took a separate cab to the airport. It was ugly."
"Good." I sat across from him. "Now, tell me why you looked so terrified when Victoria threw that wine on me. You recognized me. But you didn't stop her. You were paralyzed, Marcus. Why?"
Marcus took a shaky breath, setting the glass down. "Because Julian isn't just the regional manager, Ms. Sterling. He’s your uncle’s enforcer."
I went completely still. "Explain."
"For the last two years, Julian has been running the lodge like his own personal kingdom. He comped rooms for his friends, siphoned money from the luxury spa accounts, and set up phantom vendors for the winter renovations. I tried to report it six months ago. I sent an anonymous email to the corporate compliance office in New York."
"I never saw it," I said, my blood running cold.
"Because it never reached you," Marcus said, looking up, tears welling in his eyes. "Three days after I sent it, Julian cornered me in the parking garage. He had a printed copy of my anonymous email. He told me that Thomas Sterling screened all compliance reports. He told me that if I ever tried to contact you or your grandfather again, he would ruin my career and make sure I was blacklisted in the hospitality industry."
I closed my eyes. The pieces were clicking into place, forming a hideous, undeniable picture.
"Show me the folder, Marcus."
He slid the manila envelope across the glass table. I opened it. Inside were printouts of wire transfers, fake invoices for snow-clearing equipment that had never been delivered, and exorbitant catering bills from a company registered in Delaware.
"I tracked the Delaware LLC," Marcus whispered. "It’s registered to a holding company."
"Let me guess," I said, scanning the document. "The holding company is owned by my Uncle Thomas."
"Yes."
Thomas wasn't just turning a blind eye to Julian's embezzlement. He was actively orchestrating it. He was bleeding the Aspen property dry to artificially lower its valuation, likely planning to buy out my grandfather’s shares for pennies on the dollar.
"You did the right thing bringing this to me, Marcus," I said, gathering the papers. "You're protected now. I promise you that."
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
May you like
I looked at the clock. It was 8:00 PM. The charity gala downstairs was reaching its peak. Thomas would be holding court, shaking hands, playing the benevolent billionaire host.
"I’m going to get dressed," I said, a cold, sharp smile touching my lips. "And then I am going to crash my own party."
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