The screech of the Bright Harbor van’s sliding door echoed over the roar of State Street traffic, cutting through the freezing morning air like a blade.

The underground war room beneath Grant Holloway’s private estate was a state-of-the-art secure communications hub equipped with encrypted satellite feeds, financial tracking terminals, and direct links to federal law enforcement agencies.

Standing around the central conference table were Grant, Sarah Lin, Detective Miller, and Derek Shaw.

On the main display screen, the page of notes Maya had recovered flickered under digital enhancement.

"This changes everything," Detective Miller said, leaning over the console. "These aren't just adoption records. These are manifest numbers for contraband shipping containers routed through the southern docks under dummy corporation names controlled directly by Victor Vance."

"With these numbers, we don't just have circumstantial evidence of extortion," Sarah Lin added, typing rapidly on her keyboard. "We have the exact documentation needed to freeze every corporate asset, bank account, and real estate holding belonging to Victor Vance across three states."

"There's just one problem," Derek Shaw pointed out, crossing his arms. "If we hand this directly to local municipal authorities, Vance’s political contacts in city hall will stall the warrants for forty-eight hours—giving him plenty of time to liquidate his assets, shutter his shell companies, and flee the country."

Grant stood at the head of the table, his eyes fixed on the display. He remembered Victor Vance’s voice on the phone—arrogant, threatening, and supremely confident that corporate boardrooms could be bullied into submission.

"Then we don't go through municipal channels," Grant said quietly.

"What do you suggest, Boss?" Derek asked.

"We execute a dual-pronged strike," Grant said, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "First, Sarah compiles the financial audit data and transmits it directly to the federal grand jury prosecutor handling the Bright Harbor indictment, bypassing all local jurisdictions. Second, Derek and a tactical security team execute a quiet, preemptive seizure of the primary southern dock warehouse listed on Maya's paper before Vance’s men can torch the records."

"And what about the steel shipments and the union strike?" Sarah asked anxiously.

"When Victor Vance loses his primary financial clearinghouses and his shipping containers are impounded by federal marshals this afternoon," Grant smiled coldly, "he won't be worrying about my construction projects. He'll be worrying about his freedom."

Within minutes, the war room transformed into a hive of intense, calculated activity.

Sarah initiated the encrypted data transfer to the federal prosecutor's office in Washington, locking down the transmission with military-grade encryption. Derek gathered his tactical team, suiting up in ballistic vests and checking their comms gear.

Maya stood near the doorway, watching them prepare. She looked at Grant, her small hands tightly clenched.

"Are you going to the docks?" Maya asked.

Grant walked over to her, kneeling down. "I am. We need to make sure those records are safely secured so nobody else can ever use them to hurt children."