Chapter 7 - THE SHADOW OF RETALIATION7
Two months had passed since the downfall of Vanessa and Chloe Sterling. The legal system had moved with brutal efficiency. Faced with an overwhelming mountain of electronic evidence, financial paper trails, and federal racketeering charges, Chloe Sterling agreed to a plea bargain, testifying fully against her older sister to avoid long-term imprisonment.
Vanessa, however, refused to go down quietly.
Awaiting trial at the Rikers Island Correctional Facility, her bail permanently revoked due to flight risk concerns, Vanessa had used her remaining hidden assets to hire Victor Vance—no relation to us, but a notoriously ruthless criminal defense attorney known in elite legal circles as "The Viper."
It was a cold Tuesday morning when I received an urgent call from my office at Vance Software Solutions.
"Mrs. Vance," my senior intelligence analyst reported, "we’ve detected suspicious trading activity in Vance Software shares over the last forty-eight hours. Someone is quietly buying up short options while spreading malicious rumors on dark-web financial forums."
"What kind of rumors?" I asked, sitting up straight at my desk.
"That the core source code for Project Aether was compromised during the Vanessa Sterling incident, and that Vance Software is hiding a critical security vulnerability from the Department of Defense."
My eyes narrowed. This wasn't just corporate gossip; this was a coordinated short-and-distort attack designed to crash our stock price right before our final defense contract signing next week.
"Trace the capital origin of those short options," I ordered sharply.
Twenty minutes later, the report landed on my desk. The funds didn't originate from a rival software firm. They originated from an offshore trust registered in the British Virgin Islands, managed by none other than Victor Vance—Vanessa’s defense attorney.
Vanessa was managing a financial war from inside a federal prison cell.
That evening, I arranged a visit to Rikers Island.
The visitation room was cold, lit by harsh fluorescent lights, smelling faintly of industrial bleach. I sat on one side of the thick glass partition. Moments later, the heavy metal door opened, and Vanessa was led in by two corrections officers.
She looked dramatically different from the woman who had stood in my rose garden in silk and diamonds. Her expensive hair extensions were gone, replaced by dull, unwashed hair pulled back into a messy bun. She wore an oversized orange jumpsuit, and dark circles shadowed her sunken eyes.
Yet, when she saw me, her lips curled into that familiar, venomous smile. She picked up the plastic telephone receiver.
I picked up mine.
"Look at you," Vanessa sneered, her voice muffled through the glass. "The corporate matriarch playing detective. How do you like your new hair, Eleanor? It looks terribly cheap."
"I see prison suits you, Vanessa," I replied coolly, entirely unfazed. "Although orange was never really your color."
"Enjoy your little victory while it lasts," she spat, her eyes gleaming with malice. "You think putting me behind bars solved your problems? You destroyed my life, Eleanor. You humiliated me in front of my family and society. Now, I’m going to make sure your son’s company burns to the ground."
"You’re referring to the short-and-distort scheme on our stock?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "The one you’re running through Victor Vance’s offshore accounts?"
Vanessa’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovered. "Prove it. Victor is my legal counsel. Attorney-client privilege protects every transaction we make. You can't touch those funds, and you can't stop the press from running the leak tomorrow morning."
"You always make the same mistake, Vanessa," I said quietly, leaning closer to the glass. "You assume you are the smartest person in the room because you are willing to break the law. You forget that those who enforce the law know where every trapdoor is hidden."
"What are you talking about?" she demanded, her voice rising.
"Victor Vance isn't just your lawyer," I explained smoothly. "He’s been under active investigation by the Internal Revenue Service for money laundering for three years. When he opened that offshore trust in the Virgin Islands using your stolen capital, he triggered an automatic federal freeze notice."
Vanessa went rigid.
"Thirty minutes ago," I continued, checking my wristwatch, "federal marshals raided Victor Vance’s law firm in Manhattan. They seized his servers, his client ledgers, and his offshore authorization codes. Every dollar you tried to short our stock with has been confiscated as proceeds of crime."
Vanessa grabbed the telephone receiver with both hands, her knuckles turning white. "No... no! You're lying!"
"And as for the press leak regarding Project Aether," I added, "the Department of Defense issued an official press release ten minutes ago confirming that Vance Software’s system is one hundred percent secure, and that our contract has been expanded by two hundred million dollars."
The color completely drained from Vanessa’s face. She slammed her hand against the glass partition. "You witch! You evil, miserable old witch!"
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"I am a mother protecting her family," I corrected her, placing my phone back on the hook. "And you, Vanessa, are going to spend the next twenty years in a federal penitentiary."
I stood up, adjusted my coat, and walked out of the visitation room, leaving her screaming violently against the soundproof glass.
