Chapter 5 - The Ghost from the Vance Family Past
"Planted by whom?" Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed into sharp, dangerous slits as she stared at the glowing tablet screen in Clara's hand.
Before Clara could answer, the security feed on the tablet flickered. The secondary perimeter cameras outside the iron gates of the estate picked up a sleek, unmarked black sedan idling in the shadows. The passenger door opened just an inch, revealing a familiar silver signet ring flashing beneath the streetlamp—a ring belonging to Arthur Pendelton, the disgraced former senior partner who had tried to bankrupt the Vance family corporation a decade ago.
"Pendelton," Clara breathed, the memory of her father's exhaustion and stress during those dark months flooding back instantly. "He never went to prison. He just went underground."
Victoria, overhearing the name while sobbing on the floor, suddenly stopped crying. Her eyes widened in sheer horror. "Arthur? No... Arthur is Richard's primary financial advisor! He's the one who structured our entire portfolio!"
"He structured your destruction, Victoria," David Vance corrected her sharply. "Arthur Pendelton didn't advise your husband; he used him as a blunt instrument to systematically dismantle the Vance patents and bankrupt your household at the exact same time. You were both just pawns in a twenty-year revenge plot."
The realization hit Victoria like a physical blow. She clutched her blonde hair, rocking back and forth on the ruined marble floor, her gold dress stained with dirt and scotch. "We trusted him... Richard trusted him with everything..."
"Trust is a luxury for people who actually understand business, not social climbers who think wealth is measured in square footage," Elizabeth said with icy precision. She turned to Clara. "We need to get to the downtown archive tonight. The original partnership agreement between your father and Pendelton contains an obscure forfeiture clause. If Pendelton orchestrated this asset theft using stolen patents, the entire takeover is legally void."
Clara nodded resolutely, slipping the tablet into her leather handbag. "Let's move. We don't have much time before Pendelton covers his digital tracks."
As mother and daughter turned toward the grand exit, leaving the weeping socialite behind in her crumbling mansion, the heavy iron front doors slammed shut behind them with a final, echoing thud.
They climbed into the back of the waiting bulletproof town car, pulling away from the curb just as three unmarked federal police cruisers roared up the driveway with sirens wailing.
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Inside the car, Clara opened the secure digital archive on her phone, ready to expose Pendelton once and for all—until a red emergency alert popped up on her personal banking app, revealing that her own private investment fund had just been completely drained to zero.
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