Chapter 9 - THE CLEAN SWEEP
Two weeks later.
The morning sun broke through the autumn clouds over downtown Chicago, illuminating the sleek glass tower of Harrison & Thorne.
I walked through the brass revolving doors of the lobby, wearing a pristine tailored ivory suit, my hair pinned back, completely covering the faint, fading line above my right temple where the butterfly bandage used to be. In my hand, I carried a sleek leather briefcase.
When I stepped into the express elevator and rode it to the 40th floor, the entire floor went dead silent.
Paralegals stopped typing; junior associates froze in the hallways; senior partners peered out from their corner offices. The scandal of the Vance family had been the lead story on Chicago news outlets for fourteen straight days.
I walked straight past the reception desk and pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the executive board room.
Arthur Harrison sat at the head of the massive conference table, surrounded by six senior partners and the firm’s chief legal counsel. Sitting in the corner, looking utterly disgraced, was the head of the firm's IT Department—the man who had accepted a $100,000 bribe from my father to plant the fake digital footprint on my computer three years ago.
Arthur cleared his throat nervously, standing up from his chair.
"Claire," Arthur said, his voice hesitant, completely devoid of the sharp authority he had used on the phone two weeks ago. "Thank you for coming in."
"I'm not here for a social call, Arthur," I said, placing my briefcase onto the table with a crisp snap. "I'm here to accept your written apology and sign my reinstatement papers."
Arthur nodded quickly, gesturing to a document on the table. "The board has fully reviewed the digital evidence provided by the FBI. You have been completely exonerated of all wrongdoing regarding the Apex merger leak. The IT Director has been terminated and handed over to federal authorities."
"And my partnership track?" I asked, leaning both hands on the table, looking Arthur dead in the eye.
"The board has voted unanimously," Arthur declared. "Effective immediately, you are being elevated to Full Senior Equity Partner. You will be taking over the entire commercial litigation department."
I looked at the partners around the table. Every single one of them nodded in deferential respect. They knew that if I chose to sue the firm for wrongful suspension and defamation, I could easily collect a multi-million dollar settlement. Promoting me was their desperate attempt to save face.
"I accept," I said calmly, pulling a montblanc pen from my jacket pocket and signing the partnership agreement with a smooth, fluid stroke. "My new office will be the south-facing corner suite. Have my things moved in by noon."
"Consider it done," Arthur said, letting out a visible sigh of relief.
Twenty minutes later, I walked down to the building’s private parking garage.
I pulled my key fob from my purse and pressed the unlock button. The headlights of my midnight-black BMW X5 flashed twice, welcoming me. The car was spotless, gleaming beneath the garage lights—no silver bows, no fake promises, no family strings attached.
As I opened the door, my phone chimed with a news notification:
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CHICAGO TRIBUNE: Vance Development Files for Chapter 7 Bankruptcy. Former CEO Richard Vance Denied Bail in Federal Fraud Case. Co-conspirator Eleanor Vance Indicted for Tax Evasion.
I read the headline once, closed the notification, and started the engine. The powerful V8 motor purred to life with a low, smooth rumble.
