Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Luca’s POV
“We have a major problem.”
Charles met me the moment I stepped through the front doors of Vaughn Industries, his voice urgent.
I didn’t respond—not right away. My head was still spinning with the image of Leila storming off, her words echoing like a slap. We have to stay away from each other. And the thought that she was going out with my brother.
I didn’t know which was worse—the fact that she actually agreed to a dinner date with him, or that Victor, knowing full well what she meant to me, had the balls to even ask.
After what happened on the rooftop, she was supposed to be mine again.
Not pulling away. Not running straight into my brother’s arms.
Leila was becoming a maze I couldn’t navigate. Every time I thought I’d found an opening, she’d seal it shut with steel and fire. I’d need a wrecking ball to get through to her at this point. And it was driving me out of my damn mind.
We turned the corner toward my private elevator just as my second assistant popped out from behind a column, looking breathless and disoriented. “Mr. Vaughn—I’m glad I caught you. There’s—”
She froze mid-sentence when she saw my face.
Good. I wasn’t in the mood for fumbling or small talk, and whatever “urgent” thing she had could wait. The real storm was already brewing—and it had nothing to do with whatever she had to say.
I brushed past her and jabbed the elevator button like it had personally offended me.
Charles, ever the buffer, gave her a polite nod before stepping in behind me. He hit the button for the eighth floor—my office.
The doors slid shut.
“All right,” I growled, eyes fixed on the floor, my count ticking upward. “What now?”
“You know the board meeting is in three days, right?”
Right. The board meeting. My jaw clenched.
I should be focused on that—on prepping for the vultures circling to assess my leadership. Vaughn Industries’ quarterly board meetings were never routine check-ins. They were an examination. And every time, it felt like I was being measured against my father’s legacy.
They wouldn’t admit it out loud, especially not him, but I’d taken this company from its stale, old money roots and transformed it into a sharp, modern contender.
Vaughn Industries wasn’t just surviving under me, it was thriving.
I rebranded the company from the inside out, invested in the right talent, tore down outdated systems, and expanded into markets they never thought to touch.
Our numbers were the highest they’d ever been, and yet, it never felt like enough for them. Especially not for him.
This meeting would be no different. They’d want breakdowns—projections, forecasts, year-over-year profit growth. They’d want to know if I could double their returns from last year. If I still deserved this seat.
And yet, instead of being locked in on that, I was stuck replaying the sound of Leila telling me she had dinner plans. With Victor.
The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to drive to his place, grab him by the collar, and knock some fucking sense into him.
Charles handed me a folder as the elevator ascended. “I was reviewing the latest expense breakdowns, just cross-checking the numbers—and something’s off.”
I flipped it open. There was too much red.
“Inflated operating costs in two departments,” he said. “Marketing and logistics. It’s not just budget creep. It looks intentional.”
I frowned, scanning the figures. “How bad?”
“Bad. We’re bleeding funds into ghost vendors. Empty companies set up to look legitimate—on paper, they’re contractors, but in reality, they’re just pulling cash out of our budget with no deliverables.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. We stepped out.
I kept flipping through the report as we walked. Every payment Charles highlighted led to a dead end—no service invoices, no physical addresses, no deliverables logged. Just payouts.
Clean on the surface. Dirty underneath.
“Someone’s siphoning money.”
Charles nodded. “My guess? A shell operation.”
“And Legal didn’t catch it?”
“If it was buried well enough in the logistics budget, they wouldn’t have seen it unless they were looking.”
I exhaled, jaw tight.
Three days before the board meeting. Of course this would happen now.
“How long?” I asked.
“At least two quarters,” Charles replied. “Maybe more. It was subtle at first. But someone got greedy.”
We reached my office. I tossed the file onto my desk and leaned against its edge, jaw clenched.
“Where was Finance?” I asked. And by Finance, I meant Victor. The CFO. An incompetent one—I always knew—but this? This was beyond negligence. This was calculated.
“Same question I asked myself,” Charles said, folding his arms. “That’s why I double-checked. Victor signed off on every single vendor authorization. Every. Single. One.”
My jaw flexed. “How the hell did this pass the internal audit?”
“He bypassed protocol. Used those emergency override permissions we grant executives during end-of-quarter crunch time. Created fake urgency. Slipped it all through before anyone had time to question it.”
My gaze slid back to the open folder on my desk. Line after line of bleeding red. This wasn’t just mismanagement. It was an orchestrated bleed-out—designed by someone who knew the system inside out. Someone who knew just how far to push without snapping the line. A perfect fraud in broad daylight.
Victor wasn’t just a snake—he’d evolved into a python.
And Leila…how the hell does she not see him for what he is? She looks at me like I’m the villain—holds me accountable for every breath I take—but she wants to go out with the actual villain. I get crucified, and he gets dinner.
My hands curled into fists, knuckles straining against the edge of the desk.
This wasn’t just incompetence anymore. This looked like sabotage. And if the board saw this before we cleaned it up, they’d tear me apart.
“We need to act. Now. Before this gets to the board,” I said, “we do a controlled audit. Quiet. Get an external forensic accountant if we have to. Scrub the books. We fix this before that meeting.”
Charles nodded. “Understood.”
“In the meantime, lock down Finance. Everything. Vendor approvals, reimbursements, discretionary spending. No money moves without my signoff.”
“I’m on it.” He spun and headed for the door.
The moment it clicked shut behind him, I turned toward the window. My reflection stared back at me, eyes burning. My wolf snarled beneath the surface—restless, coiled, ready to tear into flesh. Rage thundered in my veins.
I slammed my palm against the intercom.
“Get Victor Vaughn in my office,” I growled. “Now.”
Five minutes later, the door flew open, and in walked Victor.
My jaw clenched tighter—so tight I could hear my own teeth grinding.
Every step he took toward me only stoked the fire.
It took everything in me to keep my wolf from clawing its way to the surface, from launching across the room and tearing into him until he no longer had the guts to speak to Leila. Or destroy my company.
“You sent for me,” he said, voice smug, followed by the sound of a chair scraping.
I snapped my head in his direction and caught him getting comfortable in one of my chairs.
“I didn’t ask you to sit,” I bit out.
But Victor didn’t so much as flinch. If anything, he made a show of crossing one leg over the other, his gaze fixed on mine, testing me. Daring me.
I wasn’t the type to lash out. People often mistook my silence for calm. But my anger was the kind that crept in cold, strategic. Devastating. And yet, right now, the very sight of him and the thought of Leila agreeing to go out with him snapped something loose in me. I was dying to lash out.
I waved a hand toward the file on my desk. “I had a look at this quarter’s financials. Fascinating read.”
Victor’s gaze darkened. “I didn’t send you any report.”
“You didn’t have to. Charles had the good sense to do your job for you.”
His nostrils flared. “Are you monitoring my work now? What—do I look like I need a babysitter?”
“What you need,” I said, flipping the folder open with more force than necessary, “is to be out of this company.” I stabbed a finger at the page. “Explain this.”
Victor shrugged. “There’s always fluctuation in Q2. You know that. Logistics balloons from international partnerships, the annual shipping—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence,” I cut him off, my voice laced with venom.
He stilled.
“Two ghost vendors in marketing. Three in logistics. Payments funneled through dummy accounts. All of it cleared under emergency authorization. All of it tied to your access code.” I leaned forward. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice? Are you trying to sabotage me?”
He didn’t flinch, didn’t attempt to deny it. Or even offer any remorse. Instead, he laughed, low and humorless, like I’d just told him the world’s best joke.
My fists curled at my sides. My wolf roared inside me, pacing with fury.
“I don’t need to sabotage you, Luca,” Victor drawled, smug to the bone. “You’re doing that well enough on your own by frolicking around with your wedding planner.
“Watch your fucking mouth!” I snapped. “Don’t you dare talk about her, or I’ll break your jaw.” I ground out, barely able to control my seething wolf. “This isn’t about Leila. This is about YOU stealing from the company—whether to line your pockets or inflate numbers to impress her—”
“Oh, bullshit,” he cut in. “Everything with you is about her, and you damn well know it. She told me how she just happened to be caught up with work the night we were supposed to have dinner.” He scoffed.
“Didn’t take a genius to figure out that work had something to do with you. You can’t stand that she’s moving on.”
The blood roared in my ears.
“She’s letting go, Luca,” he sneered. “And your pride can’t handle it.”
“Victor.” My voice was a warning. A final attempt to hold the beast back.
But he didn’t stop. He never knew when to shut up.