Chapter 4 - The Counter-Strike
By eight o'clock that evening, two police cruisers had pulled down the long driveway of my estate, their red and blue lights flashing against the stone walls. Patricia was led out in handcuffs, shielded from the cold rain under a police coat, sobbing hysterically as the reality of her criminal charges settled in.
With Patricia in custody, my focus immediately shifted to Julian Vance.
For months, Vance Development had been trying to outbid my firm for a massive fifty-acre municipal redevelopment project in downtown Chicago—a contract worth nearly two hundred million dollars. Julian had used Patricia to infiltrate my home, hoping to acquire my confidential bid figures and force a corporate buyout by threatening my personal life.
I sat in my private study with Arthur and my lead corporate attorney, Evelyn Vance (who, ironically, was Julian’s estranged, brilliant cousin).
"Patricia’s phone was a goldmine," Evelyn said, placing a encrypted flash drive on my desk. "Arthur managed to clone her device before the police took it into evidence. We have text messages, voice notes, and wire transfer receipts proving Julian paid her over two hundred thousand dollars to spy on you."
"Can we ruin him?" I asked quietly, swirling the ice in my glass.
Evelyn smiled—a sharp, lethal expression. "Ruin him? Richard, by tomorrow morning, the District Attorney will issue an arrest warrant for corporate espionage and bribery. Furthermore, I’ve already contacted the municipal board. When they see this evidence, Vance Development will be permanently blacklisted from all city bidding."
"Do it," I said. "I want his firm bankrupted by the end of the month."
"Consider it done," Evelyn replied, closing her laptop. "How are the girls?"
My expression softened instantly. "They're upstairs with Rosa. Rosa is making them their favorite pancakes for dinner—even though it's eight o'clock at night."
Evelyn laughed softly. "Rosa is a saint, Richard. You better give her a massive raise."
"I intend to give her much more than that," I said, looking out the window into the dark night.
Later that evening, after the attorneys left and the house settled into peace, I walked upstairs to the girls' wing. The warm light from their bedroom spilled out into the hallway.
I peeked through the crack in the door.
May you like
Rosa was sitting on the edge of Martina’s bed, holding a storybook, reading in her soft, melodious voice. Daniela was snuggled up beside her little sister, listening quietly, a small, peaceful smile on her face. Neither girl looked afraid. Neither girl looked tense.
For the first time in two years, my home actually felt like a home.
