Chapter 6 - The Viper's Last Strike
By midnight, the estate was surrounded by legal associates, forensic accountants, and private security guards stationed at every entrance. Marcus Vance had set up a temporary command center in Grandfather’s mahogany library, where reams of paper and glowing laptop screens illuminated the shadows.
"The asset freeze took effect across eight domestic banks," Marcus said, handing me a steaming cup of chamomile tea. "Daniel’s personal cards are declined. The corporate accounts for Apex Horizon are locked under court supervision. But we have a complication."
I looked up from the leather armchair, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic mug. "What complication?"
"Daniel had an off-the-books partner," Marcus said gravely. "Someone who injected twelve million dollars into his shadow accounts over the past eighteen months. We thought Emily was the only accomplice, but the money trails lead to a private holding firm called Obsidian Crest."
I frowned, running through names of our corporate competitors and board members. "Who owns Obsidian Crest?"
"It’s registered behind a blind trust in Delaware," Marcus explained. "Whoever it is, they weren't just investing in Daniel's corporate takeover. They were financing the illegal chemical imports. And here’s the dangerous part: two hours before the police arrived, someone initiated a remote wipe on Daniel’s private server in the downtown penthouse."
My heart clenched. "The medical logs? The evidence of who supplied the mifepristone?"
"Wiped," Marcus admitted. "Our IT team managed to recover fragments, but the source file was encrypted with military-grade software. Clara, someone very powerful was backing Daniel. Someone who wanted your family’s land assets along the coast."
Suddenly, the house phone on the mahogany desk began to ring. In the dead of night, the sharp trill sounded like an alarm.
Marcus exchanged a glance with me. He reached over, hit the speakerphone button, and signaled the forensic tech to begin tracing the call.
"Vance residence," Marcus said evenly.
A voice came through the line. It was not Daniel, nor Emily. It was a distorted, electronically altered voice, slow and mocking.
"Mrs. Hastings," the voice said. "Congratulations on surviving dinner. You played your hand brilliantly. But you made a fatal miscalculation."
I leaned toward the microphone, keeping my voice steady despite the cold chill running down my spine. "Who is this?"
"Someone who owns the debt on your husband's life," the caller replied. "Daniel was greedy and sloppy, but he was useful. You think putting him in county jail secures your child’s future? Think again. The lab report you gave Marcus Vance only proves Daniel poisoned you. It doesn't prove who owns the promissory notes on your grandfather’s core estate."
"My grandfather never signed a promissory note in his life," I countered fiercely.
"Not in public," the caller chuckled softly. "Check the vault in the basement of Apex Horizon headquarters, Clara. Check box 409. If you don't withdraw the police charges against Daniel by noon tomorrow, the promissory notes will be filed in bankruptcy court. And your child will be born to a penniless mother."
The line went dead with a click.
Marcus immediately turned to his tech. "Did you trace it?"
"Burner phone routed through three satellite relays in Eastern Europe," the tech answered, shaking his head. "Completely untraceable."
I stood up, setting the tea down. My hands were shaking, not from fear, but from cold fury. "Box 409 at headquarters. That was Grandfather’s private safety deposit box before Daniel moved the company."
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"Clara, you shouldn't go near headquarters tonight," Marcus warned. "It could be a trap."
"Grandfather taught me never to let an enemy dictate the battlefield," I said, looking Marcus directly in the eye. "Call your private security team. We are going to Apex Horizon right now."
