Chapter 12 - The Ghost from the Family TreeThat evening, I arranged a private meeting at an exclusive members-only club downtown. I didn't invite Marcus. I invited his primary financial backer, Arthur Pendelton—a man whose offshore accounts had funded half of Vanguard’s illicit maneuvers.
When Arthur stepped into the private dining room, he looked surprised to see me sitting alone at the head of the table, bathed in the soft amber glow of a crystal chandelier.
“Miss Rowan,” Arthur said, smoothing his lapel as he sat down uninvited. “I expected Marcus to be here.”
“Marcus is busy trying to figure out why his bank accounts are currently frozen under a federal anti-money laundering review,” I replied smoothly, pouring myself a cup of jasmine tea.
Arthur froze, his hand hovering over the water glass. “What did you say?”
“You heard me, Arthur,” I said, looking directly into his eyes. “You’ve been funneling capital through shell companies to bypass federal real estate caps. I have the wire transfers, the Swiss account numbers, and the digital signatures linking directly back to your family office.”
“That’s confidential information—you have no legal right—”
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“Northstar owns forty percent of your primary holding bank,” I interrupted, my voice dropping an octave, cold and absolute. “I don't need a legal right when I hold the mortgage on your entire generational estate. You have twenty-four hours to pull out of the Vanguard acquisition, or I will foreclose on your family home by sunrise.”
Arthur’s face turned the color of ash. The arrogance evaporated instantly, replaced by sheer, unadulterated panic. He realized then what Adrian had taken years to learn: Camille Rowan didn't just play the game; she owned the board.
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