Chapter 13 - The Prisoner's Plea
Paranoia became our closest companion. We could not trust our board of directors, our private security teams, or even our lawyers. The Vanguard operated in the shadows, turning trusted allies into deadly sleeper agents with the promise of limitless wealth or the threat of unspeakable violence.
By noon, Alvarez Steel stock had plummeted by thirty percent. A coordinated cyber-attack had frozen our international shipping lanes, and mysterious whistleblowers were suddenly flooding federal agencies with fabricated documents linking our company to global terrorism. We were bleeding out from a thousand invisible cuts.
Sofia rubbed her tired eyes, staring at lines of malicious code on her monitors. "Julian, this level of sabotage requires inside access. Someone highly placed within our new corporate structure is actively feeding the Vanguard our security protocols."
Before I could process the terrifying reality of another traitor, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was not a blocked number. It was the automated federal system of the maximum-security penitentiary where my ex-fiancée, Clara, was currently awaiting federal trial.
I accepted the heavily monitored call, fully expecting her to mock my current public downfall.
"I heard your company is having a rather explosive morning, Julian," Clara's voice crackled through the cheap prison receiver. She sounded exhausted, but that dangerous, manipulative edge was still sharp.
"I do not have time for your games, Clara. I am dealing with a real syndicate now," I fired back, preparing to hang up.
"I know," she interrupted quickly, dropping the mocking tone. "I know who is coordinating the strikes for the Vanguard from inside your boardroom. The cartel I worked for paid tribute to them too. Everyone does."
I paused, looking at Ernesto, who gave me a slow, calculated nod. "What do you want, Clara?"
"I am currently sitting in a concrete box surrounded by cartel enforcers who want to gut me for getting their bosses arrested," Clara whispered frantically. "I want a transfer to a minimum-security, white-collar facility by tonight. You still have the federal connections to make it happen."
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"Give me the name first," I demanded.
"Not a chance, Julian. You come to the prison in person with the transfer paperwork signed by a federal judge, or you can watch your precious empire burn to the ground. See you soon, darling."
