Chapter 7 - Reclaiming the Docks
Six months after the trial, the spring sun shone brightly over the Baltimore Harbor.
The Vance Maritime dockyards were buzzing with unprecedented activity. Huge yellow cranes moved massive steel containers onto the decks of three newly constructed cargo vessels. The air smelled of salt water, fresh paint, and diesel—the very scent of my childhood.
I stood on the glass balcony of the executive office building overlooking the harbor, holding a hot cup of black coffee.
The door behind me opened, and Tobias walked in, carrying a leather blueprint tube under his arm. He walked with a slight, almost imperceptible stride, but his posture was commanding, radiating health and strength.
"The Navy logistics contract was officially signed twenty minutes ago," Tobias announced, setting the blueprint tube on my desk with a wide grin. "A twelve-year, four-billion-dollar maintenance agreement for the Atlantic Fleet."
I turned around, smiling warmly at my brother. "Our father always said this shipyard would build the strongest vessels on the East Coast."
"Our father didn't have you running the company," Tobias said, leaning against the edge of the desk. "You've doubled our operational capacity in six months, cleared every cent of Arthur Vance’s debt, and established a employee healthcare trust that’s the envy of the industry."
"We did it together, Tobias," I said, stepping toward him and squeezing his arm. "If you hadn't stood up in that sinking car... if you hadn't played the long game for fifteen years..."
"I did what any brother would do," Tobias said softly, his dark eyes brimming with affection. "I kept my eyes open until I could save my family."
"Speaking of family," I said, looking out the window toward the harbor entrance. "Is the new security system fully operational?"
"Every dock, every hatch, every underwater intake valve is monitored twenty-four hours a day by our internal team," Tobias replied with pride. "No one steps onto a Vance property without us knowing."
Just then, my assistant tapped on the glass door. "Ms. Vance? Your 11:00 AM appointment is here."
I smiled. "Send him in."
A tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark navy suit walked into the office. It was Detective Marcus Vance—no relation to Garrett's corrupt family—the honest lead detective from the Savannah Creek Police Department who had refused to let Garrett shut down the initial river investigation and had worked tirelessly with the FBI to bring down Arthur’s network.
"Rosalind," Marcus said, taking off his hat and flashing a warm, genuine smile. "Tobias."
"Marcus," I greeted him, offering my hand. "Thank you for coming all the way from Savannah Creek."
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"I wouldn't miss the launch of the Thomas Vance," Marcus said, looking through the glass at the massive, five-hundred-foot cargo vessel sitting in dry dock below, painted in brilliant white and navy blue. "She’s a beauty."
"She’s unbreakable," Tobias corrected with a grin.
