Chapter 2 - The Art of War
The morning sun cast long, cold shadows across the glass facade of Marcus Vance’s law firm.
I walked into his pristine corner office with a massive binder tucked under my arm.
Marcus was waiting for me behind his sleek marble desk, nursing a cup of black coffee.
He had not aged a day since we went to business school together.
“Claire Bennett,” he said, flashing a dangerous, wolfish smile.
“I always knew you would eventually get tired of playing the dutiful, silent daughter.”
I sat down in the leather chair opposite him and dropped the heavy binder onto his desk.
“They locked me out of the company servers last night,” I explained flatly.
“They think they cut off my access to the financial records.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with genuine interest.
“But you are smarter than that, aren't you?” he asked.
I nodded, feeling a cold, calculating calmness settle into my bones.
“I was the chief operations officer for six years.”
“I know every single dirty secret, every hidden account, and every offshore transfer Vanessa ever authorized.”
“I kept physical copies of the real ledgers locked in a private safety deposit box at my personal bank.”
Marcus opened the binder and began flipping through the meticulously organized pages.
His eyes widened slightly as he processed the sheer volume of financial crimes documented inside.
“Your sister has been embezzling corporate funds to support her luxury lifestyle,” he muttered, tracing a line of numbers.
“She expensed her European vacations and her husband’s sports cars through dummy vendor accounts.”
“And your father signed off on all of it to protect his golden child.”
I showed him the video Marisol had sent me the night before.
Marcus watched the recording twice, his expression hardening into absolute predatory focus.
“They are trying to force a buyout under extreme emotional duress,” he noted.
“They want to sell the company to Sterling Corporation for forty million.”
“If Sterling finds out the company valuation is based on fraudulent numbers, they will pull out immediately.”
I leaned closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
“I do not just want to stop the sale, Marcus.”
“I want to take the entire company away from them.”
“I want them to feel exactly what my children felt sitting at that empty table last night.”
May you like
Marcus closed the binder with a sharp, satisfying snap.
“Consider it done.”
