Chapter 6 - The Sabotage
While the social worker's report was a massive victory on the home front, Cassandra and her attorney were not done. Realizing they were losing the legal battle for custody and extortion money, they turned to a darker, more ruinous tactic: corporate sabotage.
Harold Sterling had connections to a shadowy corporate intelligence firm known as Apex Risk Solutions. Within forty-eight hours of the court report being filed, confidential internal documents from Blackwood Capital Partners began leaking to the financial press.
The leaks were strategically manipulated. They showed partial financial statements indicating that Blackwood Capital was over-leveraged in several commercial real estate portfolios—a complete fabrication created by stitching together outdated audit drafts with altered balance sheets.
On Monday morning, the market reacted with chaos.
Blackwood Capital’s flagship investment fund saw a wave of panic redemptions. Institutional investors, frightened by the media storm and rumors of Richard’s erratic behavior, demanded their capital back.
Richard stood at the trading desk on the main floor of his company. The atmosphere was electrifying and frantic. Red numbers flashed across massive monitors; phones were ringing off the hook as account managers desperately tried to calm panicked clients.
Julian ran up to Richard, holding an iPad with a live broadcast of CNBC.
"It's a slaughter, Richard!" Julian shouted over the din of the floor. "Someone leaked fake liquidity reports to the short-sellers. Our stock position in the Sterling Logistics acquisition is down eighteen percent in pre-market trading! If we hit twenty-five percent, the automatic margin calls trigger, and we’ll face a forced liquidation!"
Richard’s eyes tracked the numbers. He remained remarkably calm. In the past, he would have surrendered to blind corporate fury, screaming at traders and issuing threats. But the months he had spent learning patience with Ethan had changed his internal wiring.
"Where are the leaks coming from?" Richard asked smoothly.
"IT traced the breach to an external server registered to a shell company in the Cayman Islands," Julian replied. "But the data had to come from an insider. Someone uploaded internal audit files from our legal department’s private server three days ago."
Richard’s mind clicked into place. "Arthur Vance’s office."
"Arthur?" Julian gasped. "Arthur has been your attorney for ten years!"
"Not Arthur," Richard said, his eyes narrowing. "His junior associate, Marcus Drake. Cassandra was sleeping with him before she moved in with me. I had forgotten about him."
Richard walked straight to the executive legal suite. He pushed open the glass door without knocking.
Marcus Drake, a sleek twenty-eight-year-old attorney in an expensive suit, looked up from his desk, his face turning pale as Richard entered and locked the door behind him.
"Mr. Blackwood," Drake stammered, frantically trying to minimize a window on his computer screen. "Is there... something wrong?"
Richard walked over, grabbed the computer monitor, and violently yanked the cables out of the wall, sweeping the entire setup onto the floor with a loud crash.
"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" Drake yelled, jumping out of his chair.
Richard stepped close, leaning over the desk, his presence overwhelming. "I know about the Cayman server, Marcus. I know Cassandra paid you off with money from Harold Sterling’s litigation retainer. And I know you uploaded the encrypted audit files."
Drake tried to act tough, but his trembling hands gave him away. "You have no proof! If you accuse me of a crime without evidence, I'll sue you for defamation!"
Richard pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and placed it on the desk.
An audio recording began to play. It was a clear, high-definition recording of a conversation between Drake and Cassandra in a downtown restaurant two nights ago, discussing the precise file names and the short-seller contacts who would execute the market attack.
David Vance, Richard’s head of security, had done his job flawlessly.
Drake’s jaw dropped. The color completely drained from his face, leaving him looking like a corpse.
"That recording was obtained legally through a authorized wiretap cleared by federal law enforcement investigating market manipulation," Richard said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. "The FBI is standing in the lobby downstairs right now, Marcus. You have approximately two minutes to decide whether you want to go to federal prison for corporate espionage and security fraud for twenty years, or sign a full confession naming Cassandra Vale and Harold Sterling as your co-conspirators."
Drake fell back into his leather chair, trembling uncontrollably, tears of sheer panic welling in his eyes.
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"She... she promised me three million dollars," Drake sobbed, grabbing a pen with shaking fingers. "She said you were distracted! She said you wouldn't notice until it was too late!"
"I notice everything now," Richard said.
