Chapter 5 - The DescentMalcolm Vance looked like a man who had aged twenty years in twenty-four hours. His designer overcoat was rumpled, his hair unbrushed, and his eyes bloodshot as he stumbled out of a yellow cab in front of the Manhattan skyscraper.
He didn't have his American Express black card. He had paid for the cab with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill he found in the lining of his gym bag—the only piece of physical currency he possessed in the world.
He pushed through the glass revolving doors of the tower, past the security desk where he used to be greeted with respectful nods.
“Mr. Vance,” the security guard said, blocking the elevators. “You’re not authorized to go up.”
“I founded this building!” Malcolm roared, his voice echoing off the marble lobby floor. “I own this company!”
“You don't own anything anymore, sir,” the guard replied flatly, pointing to a digital notice scrolling across the lobby screen. Vance Merritt Partners Declares Chapter 7 Bankruptcy Amid Federal Investigation. “Floor thirty-two. Corwin Forensic Recovery. They’re expecting you.”
Malcolm’s breath came in ragged gasps. He didn't take the elevator; he took the stairs, his legs burning as he climbed flight after flight, desperate, furious, and utterly ruined.
When he finally burst through the glass double doors of Floor 32, the reception area was completely empty. No assistants. No greeting desk. Just a long, quiet hallway leading to a corner office with the door wide open.
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Malcolm staggered down the corridor and slammed his hands against the doorframe.
Elena was sitting behind a massive glass desk, reviewing a financial spreadsheet. She didn't flinch when he entered. She simply looked up, her expression entirely neutral.
