Chapter 13
Z
"Don't even think about it," I said, my voice echoing like a rifle shot through the quiet apartment.
The two men on the sofa paused, their hands resting against the leather holsters hidden under their jackets. They were professional enforcers hired by Apex Crest—hardened men who knew how to intimidate civilians, but they weren't expecting a active-duty combat medic flanked by a high-ranking military legal officer.
"Who the hell are you?" one of the guards snapped, taking a step toward me.
Captain Miller stepped forward, opening his coat to reveal his official military identification and his own sidearm holster. "United States Army JAG Corps. Stand down immediately. This unit is under federal court surveillance. If you draw those weapons, you will be facing federal assault charges on active military personnel."
The two guards exchanged a tense, rapid glance. They weren't paid enough to get into a federal firefight over a pathetic, sweating notary. Slowly, carefully, both men raised their hands away from their jackets and stepped back toward the balcony windows.
"Smart," I said.
I turned my attention to Arthur Pendelton. The small notary was practically shaking out of his clothes, his face slick with sweat, his eyes darting frantically toward the front door.
"Mr. Pendelton," I said, walking up to the dining table and leaning over it until my face was eighteen inches from his. "You look nervous."
"I... I have nothing to say to you!" Pendelton stammered, his voice rising in panic. "Mr. Vance promised me immunity! He said the Delaware filings were completely legal!"
"Julian Vance lied to you, Arthur," I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite him. "Julian Vance uses men like you as human sandbags. When the flood hits, he dumps you into the water to slow down the tide."
I pulled out my phone and placed it on the table between us. I tapped the screen, opening a live video stream of a holding cell in the Norfolk County Detention Center. On the screen was Vivian Vance-Ross, wearing a orange jumpsuit, sitting on a metal bench with her head in her hands, looking entirely broken.
Pendelton stared at the screen, his breath hitching in his throat.
"That's Vivian," I said softly. "She thought she was untouchable too. She thought her shell companies and her expensive lawyers would protect her. Today, she’s facing twenty years in federal prison for wire fraud, identity theft, and conspiracy. And do you know who the prosecution is calling as their star witness, Arthur?"
Pendelton swallowed hard, unable to speak.
"You," I said. "Unless you sign an affidavit right now confessing that Julian Vance paid you ten thousand dollars to fake the notary stamp on the Apex cross-indemnity deed, Julian is going to tell the grand jury that you were the mastermind behind the entire forgery scheme. He’s going to make you take the fall for the entire $3.5 million fraud."
"No..." Pendelton gasped, his hands trembling so violently he knocked his glass of water over, spilling it across the glass table. "No! It was Julian’s idea! He gave me the documents! He told me the Bennett girl was deployed and wouldn't be able to contest it until after the receivership went through!"
"Then prove it," Captain Miller said, stepping up to the table and laying a legal affidavit and a sleek black pen in front of Pendelton. "Sign the affidavit, detail the payment from Apex Crest, and hand over the original notary logbook."
Pendelton looked from the orange jumpsuit on my phone screen to the black pen lying on the table. The illusion of his protection had completely shattered. He grabbed the pen with shaking fingers, pulled the document toward him, and began writing furiously.
Ten minutes later, Captain Miller held the signed, witnessed, and officially stamped affidavit in his hands. He carefully placed it inside his leather briefcase and clicked the locks shut.
"We have what we need," Miller said, looking at me. "The Delaware Chancery Court will dismiss the receivership petition within an hour of receiving this document."
I stood up from the table, looking down at the terrified notary one last time.
"Pack your bags, Arthur," I said cold-heartedly. "The federal marshals will be here in twenty minutes to take you into protective custody. Don't be late."
As we walked out of the apartment into the quiet hallway, Miller pulled out his phone to dial our Delaware legal team.
"That clears your father’s company, Elena," Miller said, a look of genuine relief on his face. "Apex Crest’s claim against Bennett Design Group is completely dead."
"Not completely," I said, stopping at the elevator bank. "We cut off the limb, Miller. Now it’s time to take down the man who held the axe."
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"What are you talking about?" Miller asked, frowning.
"Julian Vance is sitting in his corner office on Wall Street right now, waiting for his lawyers to call him with news that the receivership went through," I said, pressing the down button for the elevator. "I’m going to personally deliver Mr. Pendelton’s confession to his desk."
