Chapter 65: Undercurrents

One hour later.

An abandoned dock in Brooklyn.

Under the moonlight, waves lapped against the stone steps by the pier.

Malcolm pulled up in a cargo van with five men and parked by the dock.

A black van was already waiting not far away.

Its side door slid open.

An old man in a gray trench coat with thinning gray hair, leaning on a cane, stepped out slowly.

It was Kirk.

"Malcolm, long time no see."

Kirk grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth.

"Cut the crap."

Malcolm opened the back of the cargo van. "The goods are here. Take a look."

Kirk walked up to the van and opened a safe.

By moonlight, he picked up the diamond necklace and examined it carefully.

After a long moment, he nodded.

"Good. It's real."

"Fifty million dollars. Not a cent less."

Malcolm held out his hand.

"No problem."

Kirk pulled a check from inside his trench coat and handed it to Malcolm. "This is a check for thirty million dollars. I'll wire the remaining twenty million to your account before noon tomorrow."

"Give me the account number."

Malcolm took the check and glanced at it.

After confirming it was correct, he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Kirk.

"Here's the number."

Kirk took the paper, glanced at it, and slipped it casually into his pocket.

"Pleasure doing business."

"Pleasure doing business."

Malcolm nodded, satisfied, and left with his men.

Once they were gone, the smile on Kirk's face vanished.

He pulled out the slip of paper, took out his phone, and dialed an encrypted number.

"Sir, I have the account number."

He spoke respectfully.

"Good."

Leo's cold voice came through the phone. "Send it to Olivia."

"Yes."

Kirk hung up and immediately sent the account number.

Ten minutes later.

The Rosenberg Mansion, Leo's study.

"Boss, I've got it."

Olivia stared at the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard. "This is an offshore account in the Cayman Islands."

"And... this account has made twenty-seven large transfers in the past three months."

"The recipients are all shell companies in Europe."

"Just as I thought."

A cold gleam flashed in Leo's eyes.

Nightfall's account.

Finally, I have you.

"Hold position. Keep an eye on every move this account makes. I want to know where every dollar ends up."

"Yes."

The next evening.

The Vanderbilt Mansion.

Sophia wore a sapphire blue evening gown and turned slowly in front of the mirror.

The silk hem shimmered under the lights, tracing out the curves of her figure.

She glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Knock knock."

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened, and the butler stepped in, bowing slightly. "Ms. Vanderbilt, Mr. Ashford has arrived."

"Have him wait for me in the drawing room."

Sophia looked at herself in the mirror with satisfaction. "I'll be right down."

"Yes, ma'am."

The butler left the room.

In the drawing room.

Leo stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in a black three-piece suit, holding a glass of whiskey as he looked out at the garden.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around.

The moment he saw Sophia, a flicker of admiration crossed his eyes.

"Beautiful," he said, and he meant it.

"Thank you."

Sophia's lips curved into a pleased smile as she walked to Leo's side. "You look very handsome today, too."

She reached up and straightened the bow tie at his collar.

"When will they get here?"

Leo asked casually.

"Seven o'clock."

Sophia glanced at the clock on the wall. "Ten more minutes."

"Then let's sit for a bit."

Leo walked over and sat on the sofa.

Sophia sat gracefully across from him, crossing her long legs.

Ten minutes later.

"Ms. Vanderbilt, Rhys has arrived."

The butler stepped in and reported respectfully.

"Show them in."

Sophia smoothed her dress.

A moment later.

Rhys walked into the drawing room, holding a young woman's hand.

The woman was about twenty-three or twenty-four, tall and striking.

Her chestnut hair fell loosely over her shoulders, her features delicate but not showy, her manner gentle and composed.

She wore a simple beige dress with a thin ribbon tied at the waist, looking fresh and refined.

"Sophia, this is my girlfriend, Elena Mason."

Rhys introduced her, a little nervous.

"Elena, this is my sister, Sophia."

"Ms. Vanderbilt, hello."

Elena extended her hand with an easy smile. "Rhys talks about you all the time. He says you're the most elegant and capable woman in New York. Meeting you today, I see he wasn't exaggerating."

"You're very kind."

Sophia shook her hand, a hint of appraisal in her eyes. "Please, have a seat."

"Thank you."

Elena sat on the sofa with an easy, upright posture, her manners impeccable.

"I heard from Rhys that you're a student at Columbia University?"

Sophia asked with a smile.

"Yes."

Elena nodded. "Art history major. I'll graduate next year."

"Art history?"

Sophia raised an eyebrow. "Then you must know quite a bit about antique jewelry."

"A little."

Elena smiled modestly. "But I mainly focus on Renaissance painting."

"What a coincidence."

Sophia picked up her wine glass and took a sip. "I recently acquired a few paintings from that period. If you have time, you could come take a look at them for me."

"That would be my pleasure."

A flicker of genuine delight crossed Elena's eyes.

The two of them fell into easy conversation.

From art to literature, from fashion to food.

Elena was articulate and well-read, leaving little to criticize.

Rhys sat beside them, watching them get along so well, and finally let out a quiet breath of relief.

But.

Leo still hadn't said a word.

He just sat quietly on the sofa, swirling his whiskey, his gaze now and then resting on Elena.

On the surface, this woman seemed flawless.

Gentle, intelligent, well-mannered.

But Leo's instincts told him she was anything but simple.

Every so often, when she let her eyes wander around the room, something flickered in her gaze.

Not simple caution, but assessment.

The kind of instinctive scanning field operatives do on a job, weighing risks and making life-or-death calls.

"Ms. Mason."

Leo suddenly spoke, cutting into Sophia and Elena's conversation.

"Yes?"

Elena turned to look at Leo.

When she saw his face clearly, the slightest tremor passed through her eyes.

It was gone almost at once, smoothed over by a gentle smile.

"And you are?"

She asked, curiosity in her voice.

"This is Mr. Ashford."

Sophia introduced him. "My... friend."

"So you're Mr. Ashford."

Elena nodded politely. "I've heard a lot about you."

Leo's mouth curved in a faint, amused smile. "You've heard of me?"

"Of course."

Elena replied easily. "You've been quite the topic in New York lately. Even as a student, I still hear my classmates talking about the things you've done."

"Is that so?"

Leo exhaled a stream of smoke. "So what do you think? How much of what they say is true?"

Elena hesitated.

It was a tricky question.

"I... I don't know."

She smiled, a little embarrassed. "I'm not that familiar with Mr. Ashford. It wouldn't be right for me to judge."

"Smart."

Leo nodded. "But there is one thing I'm curious about."

"Curious about what?"

"How you and Rhys met."

Leo looked straight into Elena's eyes. "A Columbia University star student usually doesn't have a big social circle."

"And Rhys..."

He paused. "Isn't exactly known for hitting the books."

"So how did the two of you meet?"

The air in the room shifted.

Rhys's expression changed; he was about to speak.

But Elena gently pressed his hand and answered with a smile, "At a charity auction."

"There was a painting by Oscar-Claude Monet up for auction. I really liked it, but the price was too high."

"Rhys saw that I wanted it and bought the painting for me."

She turned to look at Rhys, her eyes warm. "We've been together ever since."

"I see."

Leo nodded slowly.

But the doubt in his eyes didn't fade.

If anything, it was deeper now.

Because...

He had just seen it.

When Elena said the name "Oscar-Claude Monet," the corner of her eye twitched, almost too small to notice.

The kind of tiny, involuntary telltale signs people show when they lie.

This woman...

Was lying.