Chapter 6
The basement archives of the Vance Legal Group were cold, damp, and smelled of decaying paper and decades-old printer toner. Marcus sat at a metal folding table under the harsh glare of a fluorescent tube, sifting through microfiche records that predated the digital age. Across from him sat David, a retired detective turned private investigator whose trench coat looked as though it had weathered every storm the city had ever produced.
David slid a faded newspaper clipping across the table. The headline, dated nearly fifteen years ago, was grainy and half-faded: LOCAL COLLEGIATE PHARMACY SCANDAL: RESEARCHER EXPELLED FOR FALSIFYING DATA.
Marcus adjusted his reading glasses, squinting at the grainy photograph accompanying the article. A young woman with long dark brown hair stared out from the print, her expression sharp, unyielding, and unmistakably familiar. The name printed beneath the photo was Elena Rostova—not Vance.
"She wasn't just a brilliant chemistry student," David said, lighting a cigarette despite the strict no-smoking policy of the archive room. When Marcus didn't object, David took a slow drag and exhaled toward the high ventilation grate. "She was running a private tutoring ring at the university, selling advanced thesis formulas to wealthy undergrads under the table. When the university launched an investigation, the primary whistleblower—a lab assistant who threatened to expose her—was found with a toxic level of sedatives in his blood."
Marcus looked up sharply. "Was charges filed?"
"Never," David replied, leaning back in his metal chair. "The lab assistant survived, but he dropped out of school and left the state within a week. Coincidentally, the university's internal review board quietly closed the case due to 'insufficient physical evidence.' And who do you suppose represented Elena pro bono during the disciplinary hearing? A junior partner from a high-powered defense firm owned by none other than Elena's uncle—a man who conveniently vanished from public life shortly after."
Marcus drummed his fingers against the wooden table. "So she’s been protecting her secrets with intimidation and chemistry for over a decade. Julian thought he married a socialite; he married an apex predator who learned early on how to bury her tracks."
"There's more," David added, leaning forward and tapping the paper. "Check the financial records from her maiden name. Before she met Julian at that charity auction in Chicago, she was nearly bankrupt. She needed a fresh identity, a clean slate, and a billionaire last name to legitimize her empire. Vance was the prime target."
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Marcus stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. "We need certified copies of that toxicology report and the university transcript. If Julian presents this in a closed family court hearing alongside Clara's testimony, the judge will issue an emergency restraining order before the ink dries."
"Be careful, Marcus," David warned, extinguishing his cigarette in an empty soda can. "Elena isn't the type to go down quietly. If she realizes her past is catching up to her, she won't just fight for a settlement. She’ll try to burn the whole house down with everyone inside it."
