Chapter 15
The red laser sight remained steady against Marcus’s chest as Robert Vance stopped ten feet away from the open iron safe. He looked remarkably composed for a man who had supposedly been dead for a decade, his hands casually resting in the pockets of his dark suit trousers.
"It’s not terrible timing, Mother. It’s precision," Robert said, his voice carrying the same calm, chilling authority that Clara had spent her entire life perfecting. He glanced past her toward the open safe and the bearer bonds resting inside. "You kept the original treasury bearer bonds right where you started. Predictable as always."
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"Predictable is what keeps a mission alive when everyone else is busy chasing shadows and embezzling trust funds," Clara retorted, standing her ground beside the heavy iron door, her oak cane planted firmly against the concrete floor. "You staged your own death, abandoned your son, and let Elena and Arthur rot the foundation from the inside out, all so you could orchestrate a hostile buyout of the veteran recovery trust."
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