Chapter 10 - The Enemy of My Enemy
Ethan stared down at the small, cheap plastic burner phone resting on the metal tray. It looked absurdly out of place against the backdrop of the high-end hospital room, yet it represented his only lifeline in a city that had suddenly turned hostile. He looked up at Clara, whose face was an unreadable mask of exhaustion and grim resolve.
"Who is this?" Ethan asked, his voice cautious.
"Victor Vance," Clara replied simply, her eyes fixed on the infant sleeping peacefully in her arms. "He used to be senior legal counsel for Sterling Realty until Arthur framed him for embezzlement five years ago to cover up a zoning scandal. Victor lost his license for a year, fought his way back, and has been waiting for someone inside Arthur's inner circle to implode. You just handed him the detonator."
Ethan swallowed hard, picking up the burner phone. The weight was negligible, but the implications were staggering. Aligning himself with Victor Vance meant declaring open war against Arthur Sterling—a war he was entirely unequipped to fight without resources, allies, or a strategy. Yet, looking at the frozen accounts notification still glowing on his corporate pager, he realized he had nothing left to lose.
He pressed the single pre-saved contact and brought the phone to his ear. It rang twice before a deep, gravelly voice answered on the other end, devoid of greeting.
"Speak," Victor Vance said, the background noise suggesting he was sitting in a crowded diner or a subway station.
"My name is Ethan Hayes," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a tense whisper. "Clara Evans gave me this number."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a low, dark chuckle that sounded more like a dry cough. "Well, well. The runaway groom. I’m watching the live news feed of St. Jude’s sanctuary right now, Mr. Hayes. Half the city's elite are standing around in expensive dresses wondering where you vanished to, while Arthur Sterling is holding a press conference downstairs claiming you had a sudden medical emergency."
"It's not a medical emergency," Ethan said, gripping the edge of the metal tray until his knuckles turned white. "It's a hostile takeover of my entire existence. Arthur froze my accounts, ruined my credit, and blacklisted me within twenty minutes of my departure."
"And you're surprised?" Victor’s voice dripped with sardonic amusement. "Arthur doesn't take rejections, Ethan. He owns people until he throws them away. What do you want from me? Sympathy? A wedding planner?"
"I want justice," Ethan said fiercely, his resolve hardening against the fear. "And I want my life back. I know where Arthur hides his off-the-books ledgers from the municipal zoning bribes. I kept the encrypted backups on a secure drive in my office safe before I left for the church this morning."
A heavy silence fell over the line. When Victor spoke again, all amusement had vanished from his tone, replaced by razor-sharp calculation.
"If that drive is real, Mr. Hayes, you just signed Arthur Sterling's death warrant," Victor whispered. "Get out of the hospital right now. Do not take your car—it’s bugged with a GPS tracker tied to Sterling security. Walk three blocks east to the subway station. I’ll be waiting by the southbound turnstile in a black trench coat. Bring your phone, and don't look back."
The line clicked dead. Ethan lowered the burner phone slowly, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He looked at Clara, who had listened to every word.
"You're walking into a trap," Clara warned softly.
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"No," Ethan said, his voice dropping into a cold, unfamiliar resolve as he turned toward the door. "I'm walking into the fire."
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