Chapter 5 - The Bleeding Brakes
I sat in the dark nursery for hours after the detective hung up the phone.
The words echoed in my mind like a physical blow.
The brake lines on your husband's car were expertly and intentionally cut.
I thought back to the threatening voicemail on Daniel's computer.
Greg had promised to make Daniel lose everything he loved if his financial fraud was exposed.
Greg had crawled under my husband's car and murdered my entire family to save his pathetic business.
A normal person would have called the police immediately and handed over the voicemail.
But a simple prison sentence was far too merciful for what Greg had done to my children.
I wanted him to feel the exact same terror and helplessness that Daniel must have felt when the brakes failed.
The following Monday, Greg eagerly signed the massive Meridian contract and returned it to my office.
He had ignored the lethal liability clauses, blinded by the promise of fifty million dollars.
The moment the ink was dry, I activated the immediate forensic audit clause written into page forty-two.
I sent Marcus and a team of ruthless corporate accountants directly into Vanguard Manufacturing.
They seized Greg's servers, locked down his physical filing cabinets, and froze his operational bank accounts.
Greg called me in an absolute panic, screaming into the phone.
"Claire, your team just locked my accounts!" he yelled. "I need that advance money released today!"
"The contract clearly states that all accounts must be verified before funds are disbursed," I replied calmly.
"You are killing my business!" he screamed, his voice cracking with genuine panic.
"I am simply following standard corporate procedure, Greg," I said before hanging up.
I knew exactly why he was panicking so desperately.
Marcus had already accessed Vanguard's hidden offshore ledgers during the first hour of the audit.
Marcus discovered that Greg had been moving massive amounts of dirty money for the cartel through Vanguard's payroll.
Because I froze the operational accounts, Greg could not make his scheduled payment to the cartel boss.
By Tuesday evening, the consequences of the frozen accounts began to manifest publicly.
Vanessa posted a furious rant on her social media page complaining that her luxury credit cards were all declining.
She blamed a simple bank error, completely oblivious to the fact that her husband was a dead man walking.
On Wednesday morning, Marcus walked into my office and placed a secure burner phone on my desk.
"We intercepted a terrifying communication from the cartel directed at Greg," Marcus reported.
"They gave him forty-eight hours to deliver their laundered money, or they are going to execute him and his wife."
I smiled, watching the carefully constructed trap close tightly around my enemies.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of my office swung open with violent force.
My father stormed into the room, his face red with uncontrollable rage.
"You vindictive little witch!" my father roared, pointing a shaking finger directly at my face.
"You are going to release Greg's money right now, or I swear I will destroy you!"
"You cannot destroy me, Dad, you do not have the power," I replied with chilling calm.
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"You have no idea what Greg had to do to protect this family from Daniel!" my father screamed blindly.
"I helped him cover his tracks at the garage, and I will not let you ruin it now!"
