Chapter 5 - The War Room
By eight o'clock the following morning, the private library of Blackwood Manor had been converted into a high-level operational war room.
Three wall-mounted monitors displayed real-time financial tracking algorithms, satellite imagery of Navy Pier, and legal documentation regarding Vanguard Development's corporate structures.
Nathan sat at the massive oak conference table, wearing a crisp charcoal suit, white shirt, and silk tie. His hair was neat, his jaw freshly shaven. Across from him sat Hannah, wearing a simple but elegant navy-blue dress that the estate tailor had delivered to her suite at dawn.
Lily sat at a small child’s desk in the corner of the library, happily coloring in a giant drawing book with a sixty-four-pack of Crayola crayons that Vance had personally purchased from a local store two hours earlier.
"This is Arthur Pendelton," Nathan said, tapping a touchscreen display that showed a photograph of a slick, fifty-year-old billionaire with thin lips and silver hair parted immaculately to the side. "He controls Vanguard Development, three regional banks, and sits on the executive board of the Chicago Port Authority."
Hannah looked at the photograph of the man whose company had caused her husband's death and swept her family into poverty. Her knuckles turned white as she clenched her hands in her lap.
"He's the one who ordered the poison?" she asked.
"He's one of seven," Nathan corrected. "Pendelton is the financial treasurer of the Council. He financed the hit through Mr. Slate’s offshore network because my shipping terminals at Pier 42 are the only bottleneck preventing him from importing untaxed industrial steel and narcotics directly into the Midwest."
He pressed another button, pulling up a financial ledger detailing Vanguard Development’s construction records for the past five years.
"When your husband fell, Hannah," Nathan explained, "Vanguard paid a bribe of two hundred thousand dollars to the Cook County coroner's assistant to alter the toxicology report, claiming David had alcohol in his blood. That single forged document allowed their insurance provider to deny your death benefits."
Tears of pure, righteous anger filled Hannah’s eyes. "David didn't drink. He never touched a drop in his life! He was a deacon at our church!"
"I know," Nathan said gently. "We recovered the original, unredacted blood sample from the hospital archives two hours ago. My forensic team re-tested it. It was completely clean."
He pushed a thick leather folder across the table toward her.
"Inside this file is a civil lawsuit against Vanguard Development for wrongful death, fraud, and corporate conspiracy, signed by the top three trial attorneys in the state. We are seeking ninety million dollars in damages."
Hannah stared at the folder as if it were made of solid gold. "Ninety million..."
"That is just the legal distraction," Nathan smiled grimly, his grey eyes flashing with deadly tactical intellect. "While Pendelton’s lawyers are panicking over the public exposure of the lawsuit at eleven o'clock today, my financial team will short Vanguard’s stock on the Wall Street exchange. By two PM, Vanguard will be bankrupt. By three PM, the federal prosecutor—who owes me his career—will issue arrest warrants for Pendelton and his entire board."
"And what about Mr. Slate?" Hannah asked, remembering the terrifying name of the broker on the yacht. "The man on the boat?"
Nathan stood up, unbuttoning his jacket, reaching down to pull a small silver key from his pocket. He laid it on the table before Hannah.
"That key opens the private safe inside the guest house," Nathan said. "Inside are the deeds to this property, three trust fund accounts in Lily’s name, and full power of attorney for my estate should anything happen to me."
Hannah gasped, standing up instantly. "Nathan, no! What are you doing?! Why are you giving me this?!"
"Because tonight, I am going to Navy Pier," Nathan said, his voice flat, steady, and unshakeable. "I am going onto The Imperial Sun to speak with Mr. Slate and the remaining members of the Council."
"It's a trap!" Hannah cried, stepping around the table and grabbing his forearm, completely ignoring protocol. "You know it's a trap! They tried to poison you yesterday! If you go onto that boat—"
"If I stay in this house, Hannah," Nathan interrupted, his hand gently covering hers where she held his arm, "they will keep sending assassins. They will target this estate, they will target the guards, and eventually, a bullet will find its way toward you or Lily. The only way to stop a war is to cut off the head of the man holding the sword."
Lily looked up from her coloring book, sensing the tension in the room. She put down her green crayon and walked over, wrapping her small arms around Nathan’s right leg.
"Are you going away, Mr. Nathan?" the little girl asked quietly.
Nathan looked down at the child who had saved his life three days ago. He slowly dropped to one knee, bringing himself eye-level with her. He reached out and gently tucked a lock of chestnut hair behind her ear.
"I have to go take care of some bad men, Lily," Nathan said softly.
"Will you bring back my rabbit?" she asked, pointing to her backpack. "It's still in the car."
Nathan smiled—a real, genuine, breathtaking smile that transformed his stern, battle-worn face into something strikingly handsome.
"I'll bring back your rabbit," Nathan promised, holding out his pinky finger. "And I never break a promise to my doctors."
Lily wrapped her tiny pinky around his massive, scarred finger. "Pinky promise."
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Nathan stood up, looked at Hannah whose eyes were overflowing with tears, and gave her a single, firm nod.
"Watch the news at nine tonight, Hannah," Nathan said. "The Council of Seven ends today."
