Chapter 4 - The Ghost from the Past
Marcus Vance looked nothing like the polished, confident corporate raider his brother Julian was. Standing in my office doorway, he wore a worn-out trench coat, his eyes hollow, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched a battered leather briefcase.
“Thank you for seeing me, Claire,” Marcus said, his voice raspy as he stepped into the room. He didn't wait for an invitation; he collapsed heavily into the armchair opposite my desk.
“You vanished five years ago, Marcus,” I said, crossing my arms as I studied him. “Right after Parker Urban Works secured its first major municipal contract. Ethan told everyone you suffered a mental breakdown and fled the country.”
Marcus let out a bitter, barking laugh that held no humor. “A mental breakdown? No. Ethan bought my silence, and when I threatened to talk, he made sure I lost my license, my apartment, and my reputation.”
He unlatched his battered briefcase and pulled out a stack of yellowed paper, bank statements, and digital storage drives. He pushed them across the desk toward me.
“What is this?” I asked, sliding the top folder open.
“Proof of how Ethan built Parker Urban Works,” Marcus said softly. “Eleven years ago, right around the time you two met at that civic redevelopment conference in Chicago? Ethan didn't have a vision, Claire. He had debt. Massive, crushing, illegal gambling debts tied to local loan sharks.”
My breath caught in my throat. “That’s impossible. We started the company together from scratch.”
“No,” Marcus corrected, looking me straight in the eye. “You built the company from scratch with your consulting fees and your personal savings. Ethan used your money to pay off his bookmakers, and when the municipal contracts came rolling in, he engineered a series of fraudulent shell companies to siphon municipal funds into his personal accounts.”
Marcus leaned forward, tapping his finger on a highlighted bank statement dated ten years ago—just three months before Ethan and I got married.
“And do you know whose signature authorized the initial fraudulent transfer?” Marcus asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It wasn't yours, Claire. It was your father’s old corporate stamp. Ethan stole it from your family’s estate while your father was in the hospital.”
The room seemed to spin. My father had passed away believing his legacy was clean, his firm respected. Ethan had played the devoted, grieving son-in-law, holding my hand at the funeral while secretly using my family’s name as the anchor for his criminal enterprise.
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“Why are you bringing this to me now?” I asked, my voice deadly quiet as cold fury washed over every inch of my body.
Marcus looked down at his trembling hands. “Because I saw the news about the wedding disaster. I saw that you finally walked away. And I realized... I spent five years hiding in the shadows because I was terrified of a monster who was actually a coward. I want my life back, Claire. And I want to help you burn his to the ground.”
