Chapter 10
The sharp crash of breaking glass echoed up through the central stairwell of the Vance estate, shattering the quiet concentration of the study. Elena flinched, stepping back from the oak desk as heavy footsteps began pounding up the grand staircase with alarming speed. Vance Global’s private recovery team had breached the manor’s perimeter defenses faster than Miller had anticipated.
"The transfer is at seventy-eight percent," Raymond said, his voice laced with intense urgency as his fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to abort or secure the files if necessary. "Do not let them reach this terminal, Elena. This data is our only shield."
Before Elena could respond, the heavy mahogany doors of the study—doors that had remained locked against corporate intrusion for decades—shattered inward under the force of a coordinated tactical kick. Two operatives in dark tactical gear surged into the room, their weapons raised, followed closely by Clara, who strode through the broken threshold in her teal satin wrap dress, looking completely unhinged beneath her polished exterior.
"It’s over, Raymond," Clara snapped, her voice sharp and vindictive as she swept her gaze across the room. She looked at Elena with absolute contempt. "You really thought a dusty old archive and a retired judge could outmaneuver a billion-dollar board? Put your hands where I can see them, Elena. You're coming back to the facility, whether you walk or get carried."
Elena stood her ground beside the desk, her pale skin taut with fierce defiance. Despite the lingering bruise on her cheek from Clara’s earlier strike, she refused to cower. "You're not taking my child, Clara. And you're certainly not burying the truth of what you did to my father."
Clara laughed, a cold, hard sound. "Your father was weak. He tried to halt the trials because of sentimental nonsense. We are building an empire, Elena—an empire that doesn't have room for emotional liabilities or bleeding-heart heirs." She signaled to the lead tactical operative, who advanced toward the desk with zip-ties raised. "Take the drive and secure the girl."
Just as the operative lunged forward, the heavy oak door behind him splintered further as Miller appeared out of nowhere, slamming a heavy brass umbrella stand across the operative's shoulders. The man staggered, dropping his weapon as Miller grappled with him in a fierce, silent struggle near the bookshelf.
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"Eighty-nine percent!" Raymond called out over the commotion, his eyes locked on the glowing terminal screen as the progress bar inched closer to completion.
Clara’s face contorted with sudden panic as she realized the data was slipping through her fingers. She lunged forward herself, reaching across the desk to rip the physical encryption drive straight out of the terminal port.
