Chapter 4 - The Federal Asset
I watched the flames consume my life's work, the bright orange fire reflecting in the cold hospital window.
I did not shed a single tear for the bakery, because it was only a building of bricks and glass.
The Thorne family wanted to intimidate me, to show me that they could destroy everything I loved.
They had no idea that they had just unleashed a woman with absolutely nothing left to lose.
I took a photo of the burning building and sent it to an old colleague named David.
David was a senior agent at the FBI who owed his entire career to a forensic audit I had completed a decade ago.
I called him immediately and told him that the Thorne family syndicate was actively trying to murder my daughter.
David did not ask any unnecessary questions, promising to arrive with a federal protection detail within twenty minutes.
I packed Clara's few belongings while she slowly woke up, groggy and terrified by the distant sound of sirens.
I held her hand and promised her that nobody was ever going to hurt her again.
David arrived with four heavily armed federal agents, their badges gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.
They secured the entire hospital floor and safely transported Clara to an armored SUV waiting at the loading dock.
I handed David the forged corporate loan documents and the fraudulent life insurance policy.
He ran the private equity firm's name through the federal database using his secure tablet.
The results confirmed my worst suspicions about the true nature of Julian's business partners.
The equity firm was a known front for a violent international crime syndicate specializing in money laundering.
Julian and Eleanor were not just greedy socialites; they were deeply indebted to ruthless cartel bosses.
I decided it was time to put the Thorne family on the defensive and force them to make a fatal mistake.
I opened my laptop and hacked into the syndicate's primary routing numbers using the data from the loan documents.
I systematically drained ten million dollars from Eleanor's hidden offshore accounts.
I rerouted the stolen funds into a dozen different charitable organizations across the globe, making the money impossible to recover.
My cell phone rang almost instantly, displaying Eleanor's personal number on the screen.
I answered the call and listened to the sound of her heavy, furious breathing.
Eleanor screamed that she was going to peel the skin from my bones for stealing her money.
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I calmly told her that she now owed ten million dollars to a cartel, and they were already on their way to collect.
A loud, violent crash echoed through Eleanor's end of the phone, followed by a man's angry shout.
