Chapter 9 - The Copycat’s Shadow
Federal Marshal Marcus Vance stood in the high-security observation booth of the D.C. federal penitentiary, staring through the thick, bulletproof glass into Interrogation Room B.
Inside sat Evelyn Hart—or rather, the woman who had stolen Evelyn’s credentials, forged her background, and nearly destroyed the Vale family. Her real name was Elena Vance, no relation to the Marshal, but a notorious grifter with a rap sheet spanning three continents.
Across the stainless-steel table, Elena looked entirely unbothered. She was filing her acrylic nails against the edge of the chair, her orange jumpsuit hanging loosely over her thin frame.
The heavy steel door clicked open, and Marcus stepped inside, sliding a fresh file onto the table.
“You’re facing three consecutive life terms without parole, Elena,” Marcus said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “The wiretaps from the Vale estate captured everything. The conspiracy, the framing of Marissa, the financial extortion. There’s no legal loophole left for you.”
Elena stopped filing her nails. She looked up slowly, a twisted, chilling smirk spreading across her lips.
“You think a concrete box and some federal paperwork can stop what’s already in motion, Marcus?” she whispered, her voice dangerously calm.
Marcus frowned, leaning forward. “What are you talking about?”
Elena let out a low, mocking laugh. “Did you really think I was working alone? Do you honestly believe a masterclass in psychological demolition like the one I designed for the Vales was hatched by a single person in a basement? I had an apprentice, Marshal. Someone who watched every move, learned every trick, and studied every single flaw in my execution.”
The hair on the back of Marcus’s neck stood up. “Who?”
Before Elena could answer, the secure comms device clipped to Marcus’s tactical vest crackled to life with a burst of frantic static.
“Marshal Vance! Marshal Vance, respond! We have an emergency at the Vale residence!”
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Marcus slammed his hand onto his receiver. “This is Vance! Report!”
“It’s Noah and his father—they’ve been taken!” the dispatcher’s voice shouted over the radio, drowned out by blaring sirens in the background. “The new babysitter, Sarah, didn't show up this morning. Security sweep of the estate found a tablet left on the kitchen island. You need to see this right now!”
