Chapter 3 - The Web of the Duval Estate
By midnight, the Northport property was flooded with the flashing red and blue lights of over twenty law enforcement vehicles.
Federal agents from the Southern District of New York had taken control of the scene. The rusty, algae-covered shipping container had been raised from the quarry depths by a heavy crane, revealing the pale blue sedan sitting inside. Forensic teams in white suits worked under powerful floodlights, recovering the remains of Elena Cross alongside the second leather briefcase containing the original paper ledgers of Callahan Maritime.
Nathaniel Graves and Julian Cross were placed in federal custody, charged with first-degree murder, corporate fraud, and obstruction of justice.
However, as the forensic team processed the evidence inside the vehicle, a lead agent walked over to Damian, holding a plastic evidence bag containing a small, corroded silver object recovered from the car’s glove compartment.
“Mr. Cross,” the agent said, showing him the bag. “We found this inside your wife’s personal items inside the car.”
Damian looked at the object.
It was an identical match to the silver pendant Camille Duval was currently wearing around her neck—a rare, antique Venetian seal bearing the crest of the Duval family.
Damian turned his gaze toward Camille, who was sitting in the back of a police cruiser, wrapped in a yellow emergency blanket, being questioned by two investigators.
“That pendant doesn't belong to Camille,” Damian realized out loud, his mind piecing together the final fragment of the puzzle. “It belonged to Elena.”
He walked over to the police cruiser, gesturing for the officer to step aside.
Camille looked up at him, her eyes wide, red, and swollen from crying.
“Camille,” Damian said, his voice flat. “Where did you get that necklace?”
“Julian... Julian gave it to me two years ago,” she stammered, clutching the blanket around her shoulders. “He told me it was a family heirloom from his mother’s estate!”
“You lied,” Damian stated calmly. “Julian didn't give it to you two years ago. I saw you wearing it six months ago at the charity gala—the same night you introduced me to your father’s investment firm.”
The agent stepped forward, pulling up a digital file on his mobile device. “Mr. Cross, our initial financial trace on the Moretti cartel accounts shows that twenty-million dollars of the laundered shipping funds were funneled directly into Duval International Holdings—your fiancee’s family business.”
Camille’s breath hitched. She tried to step out of the car, but the officer held her shoulder.
“I didn't know!” Camille cried out, hysterically. “My father told me it was offshore capital from European investors! I didn't know it came from Elena!”
“You knew,” Damian said, looking down at her with pure indifference. “You knew Elena didn't leave for Milan. You knew Nathaniel was paying off the precinct. And you positioned yourself in my house, in my life, waiting for me to sign that contract today so your family could absorb the remaining fifty percent of Callahan Maritime.”
He turned to the federal agent.
“Arrest her,” Damian said. “And seize every asset belonging to Duval International Holdings.”
As Camille was handcuffed and read her rights, screaming his name into the rainy night air, Damian turned his back on the crime scene and walked toward his SUV.
He had spent three years trapped in a prison of grief, guilt, and calculated deception, believing he had been abandoned by the only woman he had ever truly loved.
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Now, the truth was out in the open. The monsters who had destroyed his family were behind bars.
But back at the Fifth Avenue estate, two people were waiting for him—a brave housekeeper and her eight-year-old daughter, who had held the key to his freedom in their hands.
