The tablet’s screen flickered, projecting a bright, clear image into the silent courtroom. Julian’s smirk didn't fade immediately; he believed Maya was about to play a pre-recorded statement he had coerced her into making—a carefully rehearsed lie about how I yelled at her or acted erratic.

By midnight, Maya and I were inside a brightly lit, bustling diner in the heart of downtown—a place with too many witnesses for anyone to attempt a quiet hit. Maya was eating a plate of pancakes, oblivious to the war waging around her, while I used a burner phone I’d bought with cash at a 24-hour convenience store.

I dialed Agent Vance’s direct line.

"Vance," a voice answered on the third ring. He sounded breathless, surrounded by the noise of sirens.

"It’s Clara," I said. "Where are you?"

"Clara! Thank God," Vance exhaled sharply. "The safehouse was attacked. Someone cut the power grid and neutralized our guards with stun weapons. Where are you? Are you safe?"

"We’re safe for now," I said. "Your local liaison, Detective Marcus Reed, is on Julian’s payroll. He was the leak."

A long pause followed on the line. "Reed? Are you certain?"

"He’s driving a vehicle registered to Vance Global’s logistics fleet and wearing a thirty-thousand-dollar watch from Julian's shell company," I replied cold hard facts. "Listen to me, Vance. Julian isn't the mastermind behind the laundering. He’s the front man. The real signature on the high-level wire transfers belongs to Eleanor Vance and Arthur Pendelton."

"The mother?" Vance asked, stunned. "We checked her records. She’s just a wealthy socialite."

"She’s a socialite who inherited three off-shore holding companies from her late husband thirty years ago," I explained. "She built the network. Julian was just her puppet—and when he messed up by letting me discover the missing marital funds, she decided to burn him, frame me, and take Maya."

"Why Maya?" Vance asked.

My heart chilled. "Because Eleanor’s family trust is set up so that the offshore funds can only be legally transferred to a direct blood heir upon her passing. Maya isn't just my daughter. To Eleanor, she’s a multi-million-dollar key to unlocking fifty million dollars in Swiss accounts."

"Where is Eleanor now?" Vance demanded.

I looked at the clock on the diner wall. It was 12:45 AM.

"She’s at the private airfield," I said. "She thinks Marcus is bringing Maya to her right now so she can board a private jet to Zurich."

"I'll dispatch tactical units immediately," Vance said.

"No," I stopped him. "If tactical units roll up with sirens, she’ll order her pilot to take off, or her people will open fire. You need someone inside who can stop that plane from leaving the tarmac."