Chapter 4 - DISCOVERY AND DANGER
Working at Kane & Associates was like entering a high-stakes war room. Within three days of joining the firm, Marcus assigned me an corner office overlooking downtown Chicago and gave me full access to the discovery files on Vance Development Corp.
Marcus and I spent late nights sitting across from each other at a massive conference table covered in financial ledgers, tax filings, and bank statements.
"Look at this," I said one night at 10:00 PM, pointing at a line item in a 2024 tax filing. "Dad claimed a $2.5 million loss on a commercial property in Naperville. But that property was never purchased. The seller was a company called Apex Management."
Marcus leaned over my shoulder, his close proximity sending a strange, warm flutter through my chest that I quickly suppressed. He studied the document, his dark hair almost touching mine.
"Apex Management is registered in the British Virgin Islands," Marcus murmured. "Your father wasn't just hiding money from investors, Claire. He was laundering money for someone else."
I looked up at him, shocked. "Laundering? For who?"
"That’s what we need to find out," Marcus said, his jaw clenching. "If Richard Vance is mixed up with organized financial syndicates, this case just became exponentially more dangerous."
The warning proved prescient sooner than I expected.
Two days later, my mother managed to bail my father out of jail after securing a high-interest loan from a predatory bail bondsman, using their multi-million dollar mansion as collateral.
That night, as I left the Kane & Associates building around 9:00 PM, the parking garage was dark and quiet. I walked toward my BMW, my heels clicking against the concrete floor.
Suddenly, the heavy sound of footsteps echoed behind me.
I quickened my pace, reaching into my bag for my keys. Before I could reach my car, two large men in dark jackets stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, blocking my path.
"Claire Vance?" one of them asked in a low, gravelly voice.
"Who are you?" I demanded, taking two steps back. "Stay away from me."
"Your father sent a message," the second man said, pulling a dark metal object from his jacket. "He says it’s very bad manners for a daughter to betray her blood. Drop the lawsuit, hand over the audit files, or your pretty face won't be the only thing that gets damaged."
Fear spiked in my blood, but my survival instincts took over. "If anything happens to me, the evidence is already with the FBI!" I shouted.
"We don't care about the FBI," the first man growled, stepping forward to grab my arm.
Suddenly, the blinding headlights of an SUV flashed on, illuminating the garage. The screech of tires echoed as a grey Audi sped toward us, horn blaring.
The two men jumped back in surprise. The Audi slammed to a stop right beside me, and the driver’s door opened.
"Claire! Get in!" Marcus shouted.
I didn't hesitate. I threw open the passenger door, jumped in, and slammed it shut. Marcus reversed at high speed, turning the wheel sharply and accelerating out of the garage, leaving the two men coughing in the tire smoke.
My hands were shaking violently as I gripped my seatbelt. "How... how did you know?"
"I saw a suspicious car trailing you when you left the office," Marcus said, his hands tight on the steering wheel, his eyes glancing at the rearview mirror. "I followed you down to the garage. Are you hurt?"
"No," I breathed, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "They said Dad sent them. They wanted the audit files."
Marcus’s face was dark with fury. "Your father just crossed a line from corporate crime to violent intimidation. He's desperate, Claire. That means we're getting close to something he can't afford to let light see."
He pulled the car over in a well-lit public area near the police station. He turned to face me, his amber eyes filled with deep concern and intense focus.
"You're not staying at your condo tonight," Marcus said firmly. "It's not safe."
"Where am I supposed to go?" I asked, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.
"My place," Marcus replied softly. "I have a secure apartment building with twenty-four-hour security guards and private keycard elevators. You'll be safe there."
May you like
I looked at Marcus. In his eyes, I didn't see the conditional affection my father had offered, nor the selfish demands of my mother. I saw a man who genuinely cared about my safety.
"Okay," I whispered. "Thank you, Marcus."
