Chapter 3 - The Gathering Storm
I didn't go to the local police. I went to the one man I knew I could trust. Marcus Vance was a federal prosecutor, an old friend of my father’s, and the only person during my trial who had openly questioned the validity of the evidence against me.
I met Marcus in a diner three towns over, sliding the ledger, the medical documents, and a printed transcript of the SD card across the sticky vinyl table.
Marcus plugged the SD card into his encrypted laptop. His eyes widened as the video played. It was raw security footage from Cole Industries' server room, dated a week before my arrest. The footage had supposedly been erased in a server crash. But my father had backed it up.
On the screen, Preston was clearly visible, logging into my terminal, uploading the falsified financial records, and transferring the embezzled funds to his offshore shell companies. Beside him stood Miranda, handing him a flash drive and nodding approvingly.
“My God,” Marcus whispered, taking off his glasses and rubbing his temples. “It’s completely undeniable. They framed you, Silas. And they’ve been holding Harrison hostage.”
“Can we arrest them?” I asked, the rage simmering just beneath my skin.
“We could,” Marcus said, looking up with a dangerous gleam in his eye. “But taking them down quietly from a precinct interrogation room isn't enough. They destroyed your reputation publicly. We should return the favor.”
Marcus outlined a plan. Miranda and Preston were scheduled to sign the final merger documents tomorrow afternoon, officially liquidating Cole Industries and absorbing the capital into a holding company they controlled. The entire board of directors would be there, alongside their legal team.
“We let them get exactly what they want,” Marcus said, tapping the ledger. “We let them climb all the way to the top of the ladder. And then, we pull it out from under them.”
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That night, Marcus dispatched a federal medical extraction team to Blackwood Restorative Care. Under the cover of a federal warrant, they moved my father to a secure, private hospital in the city. The ghost ward was shut down.
For the first time in five years, I slept soundly. Tomorrow, I was going home.
