Chapter 4 - The Silent Counterstrike
The war with Julian Vance escalated faster than expected.
By eight o'clock the next morning, the tabloid headlines Julian had promised began appearing online. Sensationalist articles painted Camille as an innocent victim of my alleged ruthlessness, claiming she had fled the Moretti estate in fear for her life.
Stock prices for Moretti Group subsidiaries dropped three percent by noon.
In my private study at the estate, Marco stood across from my desk, laying out several intelligence reports.
"Julian bought off two city council members, boss," Marco reported. "Councilman Torres and Councilwoman Hayes are publicly demanding that the city board suspend our harbor redevelopment bid until an 'independent investigation' into your personal conduct is conducted."
"What about Victor Vance?" I asked, sipping black coffee.
"Victor is furious with his son," Marco said. "He tried to force Julian to withdraw the press leaks, but Julian stripped his father of operational control over the Vance European fund three months ago using a sneaky proxy vote. Julian holds the real power in the family now."
I looked out the window at the gardens below. The morning sun was reflecting off the fountain where Camille used to sit every morning, sipping imported champagne while barking orders at the garden staff.
"Julian thinks he's playing chess," I murmured. "He thinks I'm going to defend myself in the media."
"What are we going to do instead?" Marco asked, a dark, knowing smile spreading across his face.
"Call Clara Thorne," I replied.
Marco’s smile widened. "The ghost?"
Clara Thorne was a former federal intelligence analyst who now worked exclusively for the Moretti family. She operated from an undisclosed location in New Hampshire, specializing in digital surveillance, corporate espionage, and uncovering secrets that powerful men spent millions trying to bury.
Two hours later, Clara’s calm, distorted voice echoed through the encrypted speaker of my desk phone.
"Good afternoon, Gabriel," Clara said smoothly. "I assume you're calling about Julian Vance's European portfolio?"
"What do you have on him, Clara?" I asked.
"Julian didn't just manage Vance European Holdings; he used it to launder money for a syndicate operating out of Marseilles," Clara revealed. "I've uncovered three shell companies in the Cayman Islands registered under his personal name. Over the last two years, he embezzled forty million dollars from his father's company to cover his massive gambling debts in Monaco."
I smiled faintly. "Does Victor know?"
"Not yet," Clara answered. "And neither does the Swiss Financial Market Supervisory Authority. If these documents are leaked to the Swiss authorities and the SEC simultaneously, Julian won't just lose his business—he'll be facing twenty years in a federal prison."
"Hold the SEC filing for twenty-four hours," I instructed. "Send a full copy of the embezzlement records directly to Victor Vance's private residence. Let the father see what his son has been doing behind his back."
May you like
"Understood, Gabriel," Clara said. "And what about the city council members Julian bribed?"
"Send their offshore bank transfer records directly to the United States Attorney for the District of Massachusetts," I ordered. "Let's see how quickly Councilman Torres and Councilwoman Hayes change their minds when the FBI knocks on their doors."
