Chapter 9 - BLOOD INSIDE THE BOARDROOM
Marcus Vale welcomed me into Vale Meridian headquarters like a politician welcoming an orphan to a campaign event.
Perfect smile.
Perfect suit.
Perfect sympathy.
“Emily.”
He spread his arms slightly.
“This family has prayed for this day.”
I did not hug him.
His smile tightened.
Marcus was fifty-six.
Alexandra’s first cousin.
For twenty years, he had managed huge sections of the company while Lillian withdrew from daily operations.
If Alexandra and I were legally dead, Marcus’s branch gained enormous influence.
That was motive.
But motive was not proof.
“You knew Charles Whitmore,” I said.
Marcus did not blink.
“I meet thousands of people.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No.”
He folded his hands.
“I don’t recall meeting him.”
I placed an old photograph on the table.
Charles.
Victor Sloane.
Marcus.
Golf course.
Marcus looked at it.
Then smiled.
“A charity event.”
“You remembered quickly.”
His eyes sharpened.
“You’re new to this world, Emily.”
“There is no this world.”
“Of course there is.”
He leaned back.
“Your social-work office and this boardroom operate by very different rules.”
There it was.
The same contempt Travis had shown at dinner.
The same contempt my family had shown my entire life.
I smiled.
“People who abuse power always say the rules are different.”
Marcus’s expression cooled.
“You should be careful whom you accuse.”
“I didn’t accuse you.”
I stood.
“I described you.”
Outside the room, Travis was waiting.
His employer had suspended him.
Not for helping me.
For failing to disclose Madison’s questions about the trust and for accessing internal files after the assault.
“You look terrible,” I said.
“Thank you.”
“What happens now?”
“I cooperate.”
“With investigators?”
“With everyone.”
He looked toward Marcus’s office.
“Your cousin is terrified.”
“So are you.”
“Yes.”
At least he admitted it.
Later that afternoon, Ruiz called.
Charles wanted a deal.
He had information about Sloane.
I visited him in detention.
Unlike Eleanor, Charles showed no shame.
“You should thank me.”
I almost laughed.
“For what?”
“We gave you a good life.”
“You pinned me to the floor so Madison could hit me with a wrench.”
His jaw tightened.
“You were difficult.”
“I was speaking.”
“You always had a mouth.”
I stared at him.
There are moments when you realize someone has no secret depth.
No buried kindness.
No misunderstood motive.
Charles was simply cruel.
“What did Sloane want?”
“You declared legally incompetent.”
“Why?”
“So the trust could be contested.”
“And if that failed?”
Charles said nothing.
“Did you plan to kill me?”
“No.”
I waited.
He looked away.
“Not personally.”
I felt sick.
“Who?”
“Sloane had people.”
“Who else was involved?”
Charles smiled.
“You want Marcus.”
My heart jumped.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He leaned closer.
“Victor wasn’t protecting Marcus.”
“What does that mean?”
“He was working for him.”
I left without responding.
That evening, federal agents executed warrants at two Sloane-controlled offices.
Victor Sloane was gone.
His private plane had not moved.
His passport had not been used.
But one encrypted server remained.
Inside was a folder.
PROJECT EMILIA.
The most recent document had been created six days before the dinner.
It contained one photograph.
Me walking out of my office.
And beneath it—
May you like
SUBJECT MUST NOT REACH MAY 18 WITH FULL LEGAL CAPACITY.
Someone had been watching me for months.
