CHAPTER 3: A TOAST TO FOOLS
For the first forty-eight hours, Julian played the role of a devoted philanthropist to perfection. He presented Veronika with beautifully bound leather binders containing blueprints for youth training centers across Europe. He scheduled daily breakfast meetings, bringing her rare orchids and hand-brewed organic coffee, hanging on her every word as if she were the center of his universe.
However, behind the scenes, the financial wiretaps installed by Alex’s technical team began to light up.
By the third evening, Julian invited Veronika to a romantic dinner at an exclusive rooftop restaurant overlooking the harbor. He had reserved the entire venue. Candles flickered under the starry night sky, and a live string quartet played softly in the background.
"To your health, Veronika," Julian said, clinking his crystal glass against hers. "And to our shared future in making the world a better place."
"You are so thoughtful, Julian," Veronika replied softly, taking a delicate sip of wine. "Tell me... if anything were ever to happen to me again—if another tragedy struck—the bylaws of this new foundation state that the executive director automatically inherits full control of the endowment. Did my lawyers mention that to you?"
Julian gasped softly, placing a hand over his heart in apparent shock. "Veronika, please don't speak of such terrifying things! Money means nothing to me. Your safety, your peace of mind—that is all I care about. I would happily live in a wooden cabin if it meant keeping you safe."
Veronika smiled gently, nodding as if deeply moved.
Four hours later, while Veronika rested in her penthouse suite, Alex executed the next phase of the operation. Equipped with master passkeys and surveillance gear provided by Veronika’s security team, Alex monitored Julian’s actual whereabouts.
Julian hadn't gone home to sleep. He was at an exclusive private nightclub, surrounded by VIP bottles of champagne, wrapped in the arms of a twenty-two-year-old swimwear model.
Alex stood in the shadowed VIP balcony above, recording high-definition video on his phone. Below, Julian was laughing hysterically, raising a glass of Dom Pérignon to his friends.
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"To the old bat!" Julian shouted over the booming bass, his voice captured clearly by the parabolic microphone Alex aimed at his table. "She actually thinks I care about her stupid sports charity! Five million bucks in the account, and the foundation clauses let me siphon forty percent into shell accounts for 'consulting fees'! A few more months of pretending to adore her, and we’re set for life, babe!"
Alex saved the recording and immediately sent the file to Veronika’s personal tablet. Standing in the dark club, watching Julian celebrate his impending downfall, Alex felt a strange, cold shiver run down his spine. He realized he was looking at a mirror image of himself from just a few weeks ago—arrogant, blind, and completely unaware that the spider had already spun its web.
