Chapter 16 - The Trial of Michigan
The north point of Walloon Lake was a desolate stretch of shoreline dominated by a ruined, wooden ice-house built in the late 19th century. The lake surface around it was frozen thick, covered in jagged plates of black ice that groaned under the weight of the biting wind.
Liam walked across the frozen bay alone, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, the wind whipping his dark hair. Inside his inner pocket lay the leather-bound ledger.
Inside the shadowy, cavernous ice-house, Dr. Arthur Pendelton sat on an overturned wooden crate, wearing a fine cashmere coat and holding a silver thermos. Two armed guards stood in the shadows behind him.
"You walked right into the lion's den, Liam," Arthur said smoothly, setting his thermos down. "Just like five years ago in Chicago."
"Mercer didn't die in that fire because of an accident, did he?" Liam asked, stepping closer, his boots crunching on the frozen dirt floor. "You locked him in."
Arthur smiled thinly. "Mercer got greedy. He wanted to confess to the SEC to save his own skin. I couldn't allow that. You were the perfect scapegoat—a disgraced financial strategist with a dark reputation. And when you resurfaced with Nora, it was almost too poetic to resist."
"Where is the offshore encryption key?" Liam demanded. "Give me the proof that clears my name."
Arthur chuckled, shaking his head with mock pity. "There is no proof, Liam. Did you really think I’d leave loose ends? Once my men take that ledger from your body, we toss you through a hole in the lake ice. By afternoon, the FBI finds the cash in your boathouse, and as far as the world is concerned, Liam Vance fled the country after murdering his old associate."
Arthur motioned to his guards. Both men raised their handguns, aiming directly at Liam’s chest.
Liam didn't flinch. He didn't panic. Instead, he reached into his jacket, pulled out the ledger, and held it high above his head.
"You forgot one thing, Arthur," Liam said softly, his voice echoing off the timber beams.
"And what’s that?" Arthur scoffed.
"I’m not the smart, arrogant hedge-fund manager you framed five years ago," Liam said, a cold, dangerous grin touching his lips. "I’m a man who has nothing left to lose except the woman he loves."
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Liam smashed the ledger down onto a burning kerosene lantern sitting on a nearby barrel.
The glass shattered instantly. Kerosene ignited, splashing across the dry, hundred-year-old wood frame of the ice-house. A wall of roaring orange flame erupted between Liam and the guards, filling the structure with blinding smoke and intense heat.
