Chapter 6
The commotion from the front lobby echoed down the long, marbled corridors, shattering the brief sense of relief in the service hallway. Detective Marcus slammed the ledger shut and tucked it securely inside his heavy coat, his hand resting on his service weapon.
“Stay here with the medics, Elena,” Marcus ordered, already breaking into a fast jog toward the main entrance. “Do not move.”
Elena didn’t listen. Adrenaline still coursed through her veins, sharp and demanding. She checked on Julian, who was groggy and being helped to his feet by the arriving paramedics, then briskly followed the detective down the corridor.
When she reached the grand lobby, the scene was one of absolute chaos. The crystal chandelier overhead was still humming, but several floor lamps had been knocked over, spilling broken glass and white silk lampshades across the polished tiles. A group of three burly men in identical dark suits stood near the revolving glass doors, holding back a small crowd of panicked party guests who were desperate to escape into the cool night air.
Standing in the center of the wreckage was a man Elena recognized immediately: Arthur Pendelton, the chief legal counsel for the Vance Foundation. His silver-rimmed glasses gleamed under the harsh lobby lights, and his expensive silk tie was slightly askew. He looked less like a corporate lawyer and more like a desperate ringmaster trying to control a runaway circus.
“Calm down, everyone!” Pendelton shouted, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. “This is a private property dispute! No one is leaving until the missing documents are recovered!”
“Get those men away from the doors, Mr. Pendelton,” Marcus commanded, drawing his service weapon and leveling it at the floor. “You are obstructing a police investigation. Step back right now or you’ll be joining Mrs. Vance in the back of a squad car.”
Pendelton turned slowly, a thin, patronizing smile stretching across his lips. He adjusted his glasses, looking at Marcus with utter disdain before shifting his gaze to Elena, who had just stepped out of the service corridor.
“Detective, you are vastly overstepping your jurisdiction,” Pendelton said smoothly, walking toward them with slow, measured steps. “My clients have rights. The foundation has poured millions into this community. A few scattered pearls and some overblown melodrama from a disgruntled social worker shouldn’t dismantle decades of philanthropy.”
“Philanthropy?” Elena stepped forward, her voice cutting through the tense air like a scalpel. “You call embezzling municipal school funds and exploiting underage labor philanthropy, Arthur? I have the complete ledger right here.” She tapped the pocket where Marcus had secured the book. “Every shell company, every hidden offshore account, and every bribe paid to the zoning board is documented in black and white.”
Pendelton’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but his expression quickly hardened into something much colder. He stopped just a few feet away from Elena, leaning in slightly as if to share a confidential secret.
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“You think you’ve won, Elena?” Pendelton whispered softly, just loud enough for her and Marcus to hear. “You have a ledger, yes. But do you know where Clara’s real parents are right now?”
Elena froze, the blood rushing in her ears. The question hit her with the physical force of a blow. Clara had been placed in temporary care after a mysterious accident three years ago—an accident involving the Vance family’s private yacht.
