Chapter 11 - The Bloodline Betrayal
The name hung in the air like the detonation of a delayed-action mine.
Victor Vance.
My uncle. A man who had been legally ostracized from the Vance Industrial Foundation thirty years ago after attempting a hostile corporate raid against my grandfather. We thought he had fled to Zurich, living out his remaining years in quiet obscurity, cut off from our family's wealth and power.
"Uncle Victor died five years ago," I said steadily, though a knot of ice began to coil tightly in my stomach.
"He faked his death, Ms. Vance," the young analyst corrected, tapping the flash drive on the table. "Or rather, his legal team arranged an administrative disappearance while keeping his financial network active through dummy corporations. Grant didn't act alone when he married you three years ago. It was a calculated corporate acquisition orchestrated by Victor to infiltrate the Vance trust from the inside."
Marcus Sterling slowly stood up from his chair, his face carved from ancient stone. He walked over, picked up the flash drive, and slipped it into his breast pocket without a word.
"Is this data verified?" Sterling asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Every transaction, every wire transfer, every offshore routing code," the analyst nodded rapidly. "Grant is meeting with Victor in person tonight at a private airfield in Westchester. They're planning to liquidate the remaining un-frozen international assets and flee the country by dawn."
Silence reclaimed the boardroom. Twenty-four pairs of eyes slowly turned toward me, waiting to see how the queen would respond when the board was flipped upside down.
I stood up slowly. The chair scraped softly against the floor.
I looked around the room, meeting the gaze of every single executive, before letting out a cold, sharp laugh.
"They think they can play chess with a ghost," I said softly.
May you like
I turned to Marcus Sterling. "Call our contacts at federal cyber-compliance. Have them prepare an immediate international asset seizure warrant under transnational fraud statutes."
Then I turned to our chief security director, who stood near the door. "Assemble a private transport team. We're going to Westchester."
