Chapter 9
Marcus spun around, dropping the leather-bound ledger onto the glass viewing table with a dull thud. His face went pale, his eyes darting frantically toward his two security guards.
"Julian! How the hell did you—" Marcus stammered, backing away from the glass partition.
The two guards immediately stepped forward, reaching inside their suit jackets for batons. But Julian moved with a cold, terrifying efficiency born of years of pent-up rage. He sidestepped the first guard’s rush, using the man’s own momentum to slam him against the steel door frame, knocking him unconscious with a sharp blow to the jaw. The second guard lunged, but Chloe—acting on pure, raw instinct—grabbed a heavy metal fire extinguisher from the wall bracket and swung it with both hands, catching the guard squarely in the midsection. The man doubled over, gasping for air before collapsing onto the polished floor.
Marcus watched in absolute horror as his muscle was dismantled in seconds. He backed up against the far wall of the viewing booth, his hands raised defensively.
"You’re insane," Marcus breathed, trembling. "You could have killed them."
"I’m just getting warmed up," Julian said, stepping into the viewing booth and picking up the leather-bound ledger from the glass table. He flipped it open, scanning the handwritten entries on the yellowed pages. Dates, signatures, offshore account numbers, and explicit orders detailing the liquidation of the Sterling estate—all signed in Marcus’s unmistakable hand.
"It’s all here," Julian whispered, a dark satisfaction washing over his features. "Every bribe, every shell company, every crime."
Chloe walked into the booth beside her brother, looking down at the incriminating pages. The names of syndicate bosses sat right alongside corporate letterheads. But as she turned to the final page, a cold shiver ran down her spine. The signature at the very bottom wasn't just Marcus Vance’s.
"Julian... look at this," Chloe said, her voice shaking as she pointed to a secondary signature authorized two days ago.
Julian leaned over, squinting at the name. His breath caught in his throat. The signature belonged to Eleanor Vance. But it wasn't just her name—it was a transfer order authorizing the liquidation of Julian’s own corporate accounts to fund a hit squad currently stationed in New York.
"They aren't just covering up the past," Chloe said, horror dawning in her eyes. "They’re finishing what they started."
Before either of them could react, the security alarm in the depository began to wail, flashing blinding red emergency lights across the concrete walls.
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"You fools," Marcus laughed hysterically, blood trickling from a small cut on his lip. "You think I was running? I wasn't running. I was setting a trap. The syndicate didn't send me the ledger—they sent me to lure you out."
***
