Chapter 10 - The Counter-Strike
The sedan tore through the morning traffic, weaving aggressively between commuter vans and delivery trucks as the wailing police sirens slowly faded into the distance. Clara stared down at the live security feed on her phone screen, watching Julian pace frantically across the white tiled living room. His hair was disheveled, the black shirt wrinkled from a sleepless night, and his face was twisted in a mask of absolute panic.
"He knows," Clara said quietly, holding the screen up so Marcus could see the reflection in the rearview mirror. "The asset seizure warrant just cleared through the night court judge. He's looking at empty accounts."
Marcus glanced briefly at the screen, a cold, satisfied smile spreading across his face. "He thought he could bleed you dry and leave you with nothing," Marcus said, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. "He didn't account for the fact that every corporate shell company he set up was legally tied to your maiden name through pre-nuptial amendments he forgot to have you sign."
Clara lowered the phone, her mind racing with tactical precision. "Where are we going?" she asked, noticing the unfamiliar route Marcus was taking toward the financial district.
"We're going straight to Sterling & Vance Corporate Headquarters," Marcus replied smoothly. "Right now, the board of directors is holding an emergency emergency session called by Julian to vote on liquidating the remaining commercial real estate holdings. If we walk into that boardroom with the financial data we just downloaded from Arthur's server, we can call an immediate shareholder vote of no confidence."
"And Julian?" Clara asked, her voice steady and resolute.
"Julian will walk into a room full of angry investors who have just discovered their primary shareholder has been embezzling millions into offshore accounts," Marcus said, pulling the sedan into the underground parking garage of a towering fifty-story glass skyscraper. "He won't be talking about a divorce anymore. He'll be talking to federal prosecutors."
They stepped out of the car into the subterranean parking structure, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Clara checked her reflection in the polished side panel of the car, adjusting the grey patterned dress and smoothing down her blonde hair. The red mark on her cheek was barely visible now, covered by a light layer of foundation, but the internal transformation was complete. The victim who had stood frozen holding her coat in the opening moments of this nightmare was entirely gone.
They rode the private elevator up to the forty-fifth floor in absolute silence, the digital floor numbers ticking upward with steady precision. When the doors slid open with a soft chime, they stepped out onto the polished marble floor of the executive suite.
Through the frosted glass double doors of the boardroom, Clara could hear Julian’s voice booming with feigned confidence, addressing the nervous board members. Marcus walked up to the heavy oak doors, placed his hand on the brass handle, and looked over at Clara with a questioning glance.
May you like
Clara nodded once, stepped forward, and pushed both doors wide open, stepping into the glaring lights of the boardroom just as Julian turned around from the projection screen, his face draining completely of color as he locked eyes with his wife.
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