Chapter 6
The hum of the old desktop computer filled the quiet apartment as Clara and Elena mapped out their next moves. The digital age offered tools that Elena’s generation of whistleblowers could only dream of, but it also presented new dangers. Richard’s legal team possessed aggressive tracking software capable of pinging active mobile devices within a fifty-mile radius.
"We leave our phones here," Clara instructed, sliding her deactivated smartphone into a metal biscuit tin on the counter. "We use cash, public transport, and burner communications if we need to coordinate. Richard will assume I’ve run back to my college roommates or my hometown. He won’t expect us to stay in the city, let alone right under his nose."
Elena approved with a nod of her head. "Smart. Now, regarding your father’s engineering files—the physical blueprints and audit reports aren't digitized. Margaret keeps those in a secure vault at the main Vance estate in Bel-Air. Specifically, in her private study on the third floor."
"A physical vault," Clara mused, tapping her pen against the edge of the desk. "Which means getting in requires more than a computer hack."
"It requires someone who knows the estate inside and out," a familiar voice said from the doorway.
Clara spun around in her chair. Marcus, a ruggedly handsome man in his late thirties with sharp eyes and a light stubble, stood leaning against the doorframe. He wore a faded canvas jacket and carried a heavy duffel bag. Clara tensed, her hand instinctively dropping near a heavy paperweight.
"Relax, Clara. I’m on your side," Marcus said, holding up both hands in a gesture of surrender. He looked toward Elena for confirmation.
Elena smiled softly. "Marcus was the head security technician at Vance Media until six months ago. He walked out after they tried to force him to install hidden surveillance cameras inside the children’s dressing rooms."
Clara felt her stomach turn over. "Hidden cameras?"
"Everywhere," Marcus confirmed, walking further into the room and setting his duffel bag on the floor. "Richard and Margaret don’t just manage their child actors; they monitor them like prison inmates to ensure compliance. I copied the main server logs before I erased my access credentials. If you want to take them down legally, those logs—combined with your father’s original engineering audits—will trigger a federal investigation that no amount of studio money can buy its way out of."
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"Why are you helping us, Marcus?" Clara asked, studying him with cautious scrutiny.
"Because I have a little sister who went through the child star grinder fifteen years ago," Marcus said, his voice hardening with genuine emotion. "She didn't make it out. I swore I’d spend the rest of my life making sure other kids didn't suffer the same fate."
