Chapter 4 - The Reunion at the Firm
By the following morning, Vincent had tracked me down. Not to my townhouse, but to the thirty-fifth floor of the Vance & Sterling building downtown.
Security tried to stop him at the elevators, but Vincent was a man unhinged. He threw two of the building's private guards against the glass partition, his jacket flying open to reveal the pearl-handled Sig Sauer strapped to his shoulder holster.
"Madison!" he bellowed, kicking open the frosted-glass conference room door.
I sat at the head of a massive mahogany table, flanked by Jonathan Vance and three federal forensic accountants. Before me lay a stack of documents detailing every illicit transaction, every bribe paid to city officials, and every hidden property Vincent thought he had successfully buried overseas.
I didn't even flinch when he entered. I simply took a sip of my black coffee and looked up.
"You're trespassing, Vincent," I said, my voice eerily calm.
He slammed his palms onto the table, leaning over me so close I could smell the stale whiskey on his breath. "Have you lost your absolute mind? Freezing my assets? Sending courts to my office? Do you have any idea what my associates will do when they find out the Chicago South Side syndicate is paralyzed?"
"Your associates?" I raised an eyebrow, sliding a yellow folder across the table toward him. "You mean Marcus Vance and the Chicago Outfit board? Oh, they already know. In fact, I sent them a copy of your offshore embezzlement records this morning."
Vincent froze, his blood running cold. "You... you did what?"
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"You skimmed four million dollars from the syndicate’s laundering accounts over the last three years," I said smoothly, flipping open a page with red ink circled around specific routing numbers. "And you didn't stash it in an anonymous Swiss bank. You funneled it straight into a real estate trust under Vanessa Reed’s name."
I looked up, locking my eyes onto his wide, panicked pupils. "In the mob, Vincent, stealing from your own bosses is a death sentence. But stealing from me? That’s financial suicide."
