Chapter 3 - THE MIDNIGHT SUMMONS
The rain had turned into a torrential downpour, rattling the windows of the Vance estate like machine-gun fire. Marcus stood by the fireplace in the grand parlor, a glass of scotch untouched in his hand. The firelight flickered across his face, casting deep, weary shadows.
The heavy double doors opened, and Harrison Vance—Marcus’s slick, ambitious cousin and the corporate counsel for Vance Holdings—strode into the room. Harrison looked flustered, shedding a soaked trench coat onto a priceless antique chair.
"Marcus, what the hell is going on?" Harrison demanded, wiping rain from his forehead. "My phone has been ringing off the hook. The board thinks you've had a nervous breakdown. Eleanor is locked in her suite refusing to speak to anyone, and you’ve frozen corporate accounts?"
Marcus turned slowly, his eyes fixed on Harrison. "You knew, didn't you?"
Harrison blinked, stepping back slightly. "Knew what?"
"Don't play stupid with me, Harrison. You drafted the non-disclosure agreement six years ago. Your notary stamp is on the bottom of the blackmail papers Mother used to drive Evelyn away."
Harrison’s face tightened. The oily, confident smirk he usually wore vanished, replaced by a cold, defensive calculation. He adjusted his silk tie.
"I was acting under the direct orders of the primary shareholder and CEO, Marcus," Harrison said smoothly, slipping into corporate lawyer mode. "As company counsel, my fiduciary duty was to protect the Vance estate from external disruptions. Evelyn was a risk. A commoner trying to anchor herself to a billion-dollar trust. We mitigated the risk."
Marcus crossed the room in two strides, grabbed Harrison by the lapels of his expensive suit, and slammed him against the oak-paneled wall. The glass of scotch crashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand amber pieces.
"A risk?" Marcus hissed inches from Harrison's face. "She was carrying my children! Your own flesh and blood!"
"Family loyalty means nothing if the family bleeds out!" Harrison gasped, grabbing Marcus's wrists. "Look at you! You’re ready to burn down everything we built over a penniless woman and two bastards you met yesterday!"
Marcus shoved Harrison away, sending him stumbling. "Get out."
"You can't fire me," Harrison sneered, straightening his jacket and regaining his arrogance. "I hold ten percent voting shares in Vance Holdings, granted to me by Eleanor. If you try to push me out, I’ll side with the board, launch a hostile takeover, and strip you of the CEO title before the week is out. You think you own this empire, Marcus? We own you."
Harrison turned and stormed out of the parlor, slamming the heavy doors behind him.
Marcus stood alone in the wreckage of the room. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed a private number he hadn't used in years.
"Viktor," Marcus said when the line picked up.
"Boss," a gravelly voice answered on the other end. "I heard you pulled out of Boston. Word is the family is tearing itself apart."
"I need your best private investigators, Viktor. I want every single dark secret, shell company, offshore account, and illegal transaction Harrison and Eleanor Vance have touched in the last ten years."
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"You want to go all-in on your own blood?" Viktor asked, a low whistle escaping his lips.
"They aren't my blood," Marcus said coldly. "They're parasites. Dig up everything. I don't care who goes down, as long as it burns them to the ground."
