Chapter 2 - The Shadow behind the Contract
By midnight, the Golden Hour had been safely towed to a secure military dock where bomb technicians successfully disarmed the limpet mine. The police had transformed the marina into a massive crime scene, scanning for security footage and interviewing dock workers.
Inside the private office of Sterling Atlantic Logistics, Richard sat behind his oak desk. The room was illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights and his computer monitors.
Luna sat on a leather sofa nearby, tucked into a warm blanket, drinking hot cocoa provided by Richard’s personal secretary, while Peter slept soundly on the adjacent couch. Marina paced the length of the room, her elegant white dress ruined with dirt and dock grease.
“Who could have done this, Richard?” Marina demanded, her voice crackling with emotion. “You’re an executive! You run cargo ships! Who wants to murder our entire family?”
Richard rubbed his temples. “The port contract, Marina. The East Coast Maritime Lease.”
Four hours earlier, before arriving at the marina, Richard had signed a three-hundred-million-dollar contract giving Sterling Atlantic Logistics exclusive rights to manage the newly expanded Deepwater Terminal at Port Everglades.
It was the deal of a lifetime—and it had snatched the lucrative contract away from Vance-Global Shipping, a rival cartel owned by Julian Vance, a ruthless billionaire known for taking short cuts through shell companies and political bribery.
“Julian Vance,” Richard whispered to himself.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Marcus Vance—no relation to the bomb squad commander, but a top private investigator Richard kept on retainer—stepped into the room.
“Richard,” Marcus said, dropping a manila folder onto the desk. “We ran the security footage from the surrounding shops near the pier. Luna’s description was dead accurate.”
Marcus pulled out two printed photographs taken from a nearby seafood restaurant’s security camera at 5:45 p.m.
The photos showed two men wearing blue mechanic jumpsuits walking away from the docks. One was tall, with a distinct jagged scar along his left jawline. The other was completely bald, carrying a heavy black duffel bag.
Luna peeked out from her blanket, her big eyes catching sight of the photos on the desk.
“That’s them,” Luna whispered, pointing a thin finger at the scarred man. “That’s the man who said Peter and his mom had to be on the boat.”
Richard stood up, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white. “Marcus, who are they?”
“The scarred one is Viktor Kross,” Marcus replied, leaning over the desk. “Former Eastern European navy diver turned mercenary for hire. He’s been linked to three suspicious maritime sinkings in Europe over the last decade. And guess who paid his retainer account in Miami three days ago?”
“Julian Vance,” Richard spat out.
“Not directly,” Marcus corrected. “Through a shell company called Apex Logistics—which happens to be owned by Julian Vance’s brother-in-law, Arthur Pendelton.”
Marina sank into an armchair, covering her mouth. “It was Vance... he wanted to destroy us so he could inherit the port contract by default.”
“If you and Richard died tonight,” Marcus explained coldly, “the contract clause states that the lease reverts back to the second-highest bidder within forty-eight hours. Julian Vance would have landed the three-hundred-million-dollar lease by Monday morning.”
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Richard looked over at Luna, who was clutching her empty mug of cocoa, her dark eyes filled with a mixture of fear and exhaustion.
“A child stood between a billionaire monster and my family’s mass murder,” Richard said quietly. “Julian Vance thinks he can play with human lives like chess pieces. He’s about to learn how wrong he is.”
