Chapter 4 - The Poison in the Ledger
"Marcus," Thiago said, his voice dropping into a register so quiet and deadly that the air pressure in the room seemed to drop. "Calculate the date. Five years ago. The night of the crash."
Marcus stepped backward, hitting the hallway wall. "Boss... I handled the asset transfers. I managed the estate logistics. I told you the child didn't make it off the yacht because... because the rescue teams recovered only debris."
"You told me," Thiago snarled, wheeling forward with sudden, violent speed, "that Elena’s miscarriage happened before the voyage. You told me our baby never drew a breath!"
Elena shook her head slowly, standing up from the floor with Samuel's small hand still safely tucked in hers. "Marcus didn't want an heir splitting the board's votes, Thiago. He forged the medical reports. The night before the yacht went down, he had my baby taken away by his private couriers, threatening to kill us both if I ever spoke a word. Then he staged the explosion to cover his tracks and locked me away here, drugging my water so I would lose my mind."
The revelations fell like falling dominoes, each one more devastating than the last.
Marcus was shaking now, his hands raised defensively. "She's insane! You can't trust the word of a hysterical woman locked in a padded wing! The board will never believe this—I have the controlling shares proxy signed by you, Thiago! You gave me power of attorney three years ago!"
"I gave you power of attorney because I thought I was dying," Thiago replied smoothly, pulling a heavy gold-plated pen from his breast pocket. He pressed a hidden panic button on the armrest of his wheelchair.
Whirrrr.
Heavy, reinforced steel security shutters dropped instantly over every exit of the east wing corridor, trapping Marcus inside.
"You forgot one rule about my empire, Marcus," Thiago said, his eyes burning with cold fire. "I own the banks. I own the police commissioners. And I own every square inch of this land. You thought you were managing me. But you were just managing my cage."
Heavy footsteps echoed down the main hall outside the shutters. Within thirty seconds, the sound of tactical boots and tactical gear filled the outer corridor.
May you like
"Secure Mr. Vance," Thiago commanded through the intercom grill by the door. "Lock him in the federal holding cells beneath the harbor dock. And call the state prosecutor. Tell him we have five years of corporate fraud, kidnapping, and attempted murder to unpack before breakfast."
Two armed private security guards materialized through a side maintenance hatch, grabbing Marcus by the shoulders. The attorney thrashed and screamed, hurling curses and threats of ruin, but his voice was cut off sharply as they dragged him down the hall into the darkness.
