The Trap is Set
By Friday morning, the trap was fully set, though the Bennett family was still celebrating their perceived victory.
From my temporary office at the Pacific View Inn, I watched the live metrics of the firm's accounts. Daniel had scheduled a massive 1:30 p.m. clearing call with our European investors, intending to finalize the transfer of the three-million-dollar advance. He believed I was still hiding in the Tribeca townhome, too broken and embarrassed to speak up.
At 11:00 a.m., my terminal flashed with a notification from the regional courthouse. Judge Eleanor Thornton had just finished reviewing the encrypted data packets Marcus and I had submitted at dawn.
The signature page was verified as a digital clone. The penthouse collateral was flagged as a fraudulent declaration.
The federal asset forfeiture warrant was signed at exactly 12:00 p.m.
I called Felix, our family’s loyal driver for twenty years. "Felix, is the vehicle ready?"
"Waiting downstairs, Miss Blackwood," his kind voice came through the speaker. "The compliance inspectors have already boarded the elevator at Vance Capital."
May you like
I picked up my silver cane—a relic from my grandfather that I rarely used, but carried today as a reminder of the weight behind my name. I adjusted my tailored dark grey suit, walked past the hotel mirror without looking at my reflection, and stepped into the elevator.
The time for waiting was over.
