Chapter 2 - THE PAPER TRAIL OF BLOODForty-eight hours later, the intensive care unit smelled of antiseptic and fresh flowers sent by board members who had no idea their CEO was sitting in a county jail cell.
My attorney, Marcus Vance—no relation to Beckett, purely a stroke of poetic justice—sat at the foot of my hospital bed, his laptop open.
“The audio tape secured Beckett’s denial of bail,” Marcus said, turning the screen toward me. “The judge saw the strangle marks on your neck and heard Mary’s voice clear as day. But Clara, they’re digging in. Mary hired Harrison Blake.”
I gasped through my bruised trachea. Harrison Blake was the most ruthless corporate defense attorney in the state. He specialized in making victims look insane and making monsters look like saints.
“Let him try,” I rasped, my voice sounding like gravel grinding together. “Did the cloud transfer complete?”
Marcus smiled warmly—a rare sight for a veteran trial lawyer. “Every single terabyte. When you built the cyber-infrastructure for Vance Enterprises ten years ago, you built backdoors no one else knew existed. Beckett thought he was wiping your servers, but he was actually uploading his own financial crimes straight to my vault.”
He clicked a file. On the screen popped up bank accounts in the Cayman Islands, fraudulent signatures on my late father’s estate documents, and a terrifying series of wire transfers.
“Beckett didn't just want control of your company, Clara,” Marcus said soberly. “He was bankrupting it. He drained forty million dollars over the last two years to pay off massive gambling debts to an offshore syndicate. If you hadn't survived that night, he would have liquidated Vance Enterprises within a week and left you blamed for the ruin.”
Suddenly, the door to my ICU room burst open.
Two state investigators walked in, followed by Dr. Hannah Scott, who looked grim.
“Mrs. Vance,” the lead detective said, showing his badge. “We have a problem. Mary Vance just walked into the precinct with a team of high-priced medical experts.”
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My chest tightened. “What did she do?”
“She produced a signed, notarized psychiatric evaluation from three months ago,” the detective revealed. “It claims you suffer from severe schizophrenia with self-harm tendencies. And worse... she brought a witness who swears under oath that you hired someone to attack Beckett that night.”
