Chapter 4 - The Rival's Play
Marcus Thorne’s sudden appearance shifted the gravity in the room entirely.
My father’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits as he stared down his oldest enemy.
Marcus placed a patronizing hand on Grant’s shoulder like a master petting a loyal, pathetic dog.
He informed the board that Grant would remain as the acting CEO under his new corporate umbrella.
Grant sneered at me triumphantly, believing he had outsmarted the Vance family.
I refused to let them see even a single ounce of fear on my face.
I stood up slowly and congratulated Grant on finding a new master to serve.
My father and I exited the boardroom with our dignity completely intact.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, my father pulled out his phone to activate his intelligence network.
He needed to know exactly how Marcus had acquired those shares without triggering our financial alarms.
I knew that this war had just escalated from a domestic revenge plot to a billionaire blood feud.
We returned to the estate, and Harris was waiting for me in the grand foyer with a grim expression.
He reported that his security team had breached Vanessa’s hotel room an hour ago.
The room was completely empty, and there was a shattered lamp on the carpet.
Harris handed me a clear evidence bag containing a broken pearl earring.
It was one of the earrings Vanessa had been wearing when Grant threw me out of my own house.
There was a small smear of fresh blood on the carpet near the balcony door.
Grant had clearly abducted his own mistress to prevent her from handing over the audio recording.
My husband had officially crossed the line from a violent abuser to a desperate kidnapper.
I realized that Marcus Thorne was likely providing Grant with the resources to hide her.
I asked Harris to pull the security camera footage from the hotel parking garage.
We needed to trace the vehicle that was used to smuggle Vanessa out of the building.
Harris brought his laptop to the dining room and played the encrypted video files.
We watched a black utility van speed out of the garage exactly three minutes after my phone call dropped.
The license plate was completely obscured by mud, but the side of the van had a distinct logo.
May you like
It was a catering company that my father exclusively used for his corporate galas.
Someone inside our own trusted circle was secretly working for Marcus Thorne.
