Those recipes were the foundation of our entire luxury dining brand.

They were worth tens of millions of dollars to any major international food conglomerate.

“He cannot legally sell those,” Julian said. “They are part of the disputed marital estate.”

“He has an old power of attorney that we haven’t fully revoked in the European jurisdictions,” I said.

“He would have to find a buyer willing to ignore the pending litigation,” Julian said.

“There are foreign buyers who do not care about American court orders,” I whispered.

Bennett turned and walked quickly back up the steps of the townhouse.

He slammed the heavy front door behind him, the sound muffled by the rain.

“We need to monitor his accounts,” I said. “Priya needs to watch the offshore registries.”

Julian opened his laptop again, the keyboard clicking in the dark. “I will call her.”

The blue light of the screen illuminated his face.

The wipers made a rhythmic, squeaking sound against the windshield.

“Priya,” Julian said when she answered. “Are you watching the Whitlock Luxe server?”

“I am,” Priya’s voice came through the car speakers. “Nothing is moving yet.”