Chapter 6 - THE BLACKMAIL NETWORKBefore the gunman could take a step forward, a heavy iron laundry cart came flying from the shadows of the loading dock, slamming into the man’s side with devastating force.
CRASH!
The gunman yelled in pain, losing his footing on the wet concrete and dropping his silenced weapon into the drain gutter.
Standing behind the cart, holding a heavy iron pipe, was Mrs. Okafor.
“Get away from him, you bastard!” Mrs. Okafor screamed, swinging the pipe with furious strength.
“Mrs. Okafor?!” Darian gasped in shock.
“I followed Marcus’s tracking app, Mr. Darian!” Mrs. Okafor yelled, kicking the gunman’s weapon deep into the drainage sewer. “Get in the car! Quickly!”
parked just past the loading bay was Mrs. Okafor’s old beat-up Toyota sedan. Darian didn’t wait. He scrambled into the back seat with Layla, and Mrs. Okafor jumped into the driver’s seat, slamming her foot onto the gas pedal just as the gunman scrambled to his feet.
The sedan roared out onto the slick city streets, disappearing into the torrential rain.
“Are you hurt, Layla?” Mrs. Okafor asked frantically, looking in the rearview mirror.
“I’m okay, Mrs. Okafor,” Layla said softly, holding her elephant tight. “Daddy saved me.”
Darian caught his breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. He looked at the yellow envelope in his hands, then at Mrs. Okafor. “Mrs. Okafor... how did you know to come here?”
“Marcus texted me before the police arrived,” she said, her eyes fixed on the road. “He knew Camille had private security watching the hospital. Mr. Darian... where are we going now? We can’t go back to the house.”
“No,” Darian said, his eyes darkening with absolute determination. “We aren't going to hide. We are going to the Dupont Estate.”
Mrs. Okafor choked on her breath. “The Dupont Estate? Mr. Darian, that’s suicide! Her father owns half the city judiciary!”
“Her father doesn’t know what Camille has been doing,” Darian said, pulling out the paper trail from Sophia’s folder. “Look at these transactions. Camille wasn’t using her family’s main company. She was embezzling funds from her father’s offshore accounts to pay off blackmailers and cover up her track.”
Darian realized the ultimate picture. Camille hadn’t just tried to replace Sophia—she was broke. Her lavish lifestyle, her haute couture clothes, and her high-society status were an illusion maintained by illegal transfers from her father’s firm. She needed Darian’s company and his wealth to cover up millions in stolen offshore assets before her father’s annual audit next month.
And Sophia had discovered it.
“She killed my wife to steal my family,” Darian hissed, his blood running cold with absolute fury. “It’s time to pay Arthur Dupont a visit.”
Forty minutes later, the sedan pulled up to the iron gates of the massive Dupont Manor in the city’s most elite enclave. Rain poured from the dark sky.
Darian stepped out of the car, carrying Layla under an umbrella, while Mrs. Okafor stayed in the running car. He walked right up to the gate intercom and pressed the button.
“Who is it?” a butler’s voice crackled through the speaker.
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“Tell Arthur Dupont that Darian Vance is here,” Darian said coldly into the speaker. “And tell him I have the forensic audit for Dupont Holdings Page 42.”
There was a long pause. Three seconds later, the massive iron gates slid open.
