Chapter 5
The whirring sound of the legacy fax machine cut through the tense silence of the study like a jagged blade. All eyes snapped toward the corner of the room where the graying machine continued to spool out a single strip of thermal paper. Julian broke away from the group first, walking rapidly across the Persian rug to tear the paper from the spool before anyone else could touch it.
The ink was fresh, smelling faintly of heated chemicals. Julian’s eyes raced across the single line of printed text, and the blood drained entirely from his face.
It wasn't a corporate document or a legal brief. It was an incoming log transmission from a secure off-site server belonging to Vance Global Logistics—the family shipping conglomerate. The timestamp indicated the message had been dispatched precisely two minutes ago, originating from a terminal inside the private study of Arthur Vance, Julian’s late grandfather.
"What is it, Julian?" Detective Miller asked, stepping forward with cautious curiosity, his hand lingering near his holster.
Julian didn't answer immediately. He stared at the thermal printout, his mind reeling. The message contained a single bank routing number and an account balance statement showing a transfer of four million dollars executed earlier that morning—transferred directly from the corporate reserve fund into an offshore account held under Eleanor Vance’s maiden name.
"You didn't just frame Amy for stealing a will," Julian whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying realization as he slowly turned his gaze toward his mother. "You looted the company accounts to pay off your own debts, and you needed a scapegoat before the quarterly audit next week."
Eleanor’s immaculate composure cracked for a microsecond. A tiny flicker of panic crossed her eyes before she smoothed her features back into an expression of haughty disdain.
"That piece of thermal paper is a forgery, Detective," Eleanor said smoothly, turning to Miller. "My son is distraught, and he is grasping at straws to protect his wife from the consequences of her own digital footprint."
Miller looked at Julian, then at the thermal printout, clearly out of his depth. "Julian, I have to follow the active complaint filed against your wife. If you have evidence of corporate malfeasance, you need to file a formal counter-suit with the economic crimes division downtown. Right now, I still have to bring Mrs. Vance in for the data breach."
Amy clutched Lily tighter, the baby now crying in earnest, overwhelmed by the shouting and the flashing amber lights outside the window. "Julian, please don't let them take me. I didn't do anything!"
Julian stepped between the police officers and his wife, his jaw set in stubborn defiance. "She is not going anywhere, Miller. Not without a warrant signed by a judge, not based on an automated log file that my mother had full administrative power to manipulate."
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Before Miller could respond, the front doorbell chimed through the grand manor—a loud, repetitive ringing that signaled someone was standing outside in the cold night air, refusing to leave until the heavy oak doors were opened.
Eleanor frowned, stepping past the officers toward the hallway. "Who on earth could be at the manor at this hour?"
