Chapter 4 - THE LEDGER
Marcus stepped fully into the office, his gaze darting between my mother, Clara, and me. He sensed the emotional tension in the room like a shark smelling blood in the water, but years of absolute discipline kept his expression carved from stone.
“A Vanguard representative?” I asked, my voice dropping back into its cold, authoritative syndicate register. “At midnight? On our property?”
“He came through the back perimeter,” Marcus replied, resting a hand near his shoulder holster. “He didn't bring guards. Just a briefcase. He claims he has documents proving our logistics network was compromised from the inside during the restructuring last month. He wants safe passage out of the city in exchange for the files.”
I looked down at Clara. Her face had gone completely pale again, her eyes fixed on Marcus. The mention of leaked logistics and internal compromises struck a terrifying chord. If Vanguard had our current blueprints, our entire operation was vulnerable.
“Bring him to the basement holding room,” I ordered, buttoning my suit jacket. “Don’t let him out of your sight. I’ll be down in five minutes.”
“Boss,” Marcus hesitated, his dark eyes shifting to Clara. “Should I have her escorted back to the quarters? Visitors aren't supposed to be in the private wing during business briefings.”
“She stays,” I said flatly.
Marcus blinked, clearly thrown off by my command, but he knew better than to question me twice. “Understood.” He turned and strode out of the office, closing the heavy door behind him.
Mother looked up at me, worry etching deep lines into her weathered face. “Bennett, be careful. Vanguard doesn't bargain unless they have a knife at your throat. They know about the old docks fire. They know about the loose ends.”
“Let them know,” I said coldly. “It’s time debts were settled.”
I turned toward the door, but before I could take a step, Clara moved. She rushed across the room, planting herself directly in my path.
“You can’t go down there blind,” Clara said, her voice shaking with urgency.
“Move, Clara.”
“No!” She grabbed the lapel of my jacket, her fingers clutching the fabric with surprising strength. “Don’t you understand? The Vanguard didn't just come here to blackmail you about logistics. My father didn't leak those codes alone ten years ago. He was framed. And the man who framed him... the man who actually sold out our docks to Vanguard so he could take over the logistics empire... was your father’s right-hand man.”
I froze. My breath hitched in my throat. “Who?”
Clara swallowed hard, a single tear cutting a clean path down her dusty cheek.
“Marcus.”
The world stopped spinning. Every instinct I possessed screamed that she was lying—that Marcus, who had taken a bullet for me, who had stood by my side through every turf war, could not possibly be the traitor.
Yet, looking into Clara’s eyes, I saw no deception. Only a terrifying, unshakable truth.
“Prove it,” I whispered.
May you like
Clara released my jacket, turned to my mother’s nightstand, and pulled a small, worn leather-bound book from beneath the stack of medical journals. She shoved it into my hands.
“My father’s personal ledger,” she said. “He kept records of every transaction Marcus forced him to make. If you walk into that basement alone with Marcus guarding the door, you’re walking into an execution.”
