Chapter 10 - Shadows from Vancouver
Z
Within forty-eight hours, Marcus Hayes confirmed Samantha’s theory with frightening precision.
Vanessa Cole had quietly relocated from Vancouver to Chicago six months ago, using a newly registered LLC to lease a luxury condo in the Gold Coast. Prison visitor logs from the Lincoln Correctional Center revealed that Vanessa had visited Chloe Whitmore four times in the preceding eight weeks.
“Vanessa was Chloe’s college roommate before they moved to Canada,” Marcus explained, pacing across my office as he laid out a series of surveillance photographs. “When Chloe’s accounts were frozen by the federal asset forfeiture unit, roughly four hundred thousand dollars in undeclared offshore consulting retainers remained parked in a Canadian holding company registered under Vanessa’s maiden name. Vanessa isn’t just Chloe’s friend, Ethan—she is Chloe’s financial bagman.”
“And what is her objective here?” I asked, staring at a photo of a sharp-featured brunette walking out of a high-end Chicago legal firm.
“To break your credibility, force you into a settlement to drop the civil restitution orders against the Whitmore estate, and secure early parole for Chloe,” Marcus stated bluntly. “If Arthur Pendelton and the municipal board disqualify your firm on ethical grounds, Vanessa’s lawyers will file a civil petition claiming that your previous criminal testimony against Chloe was tainted by financial coercion.”
“Not while I'm still breathing,” I said, my jaw clenching.
That evening, I arrived home early to find Noah and Lily playing on the backyard swings while Mrs. Garcia sat on the patio bench, knitting a wool scarf. The sunset cast a warm orange hue across our quiet neighborhood, but the impending storm felt closer than ever.
Noah hopped off the swing, running toward me with open arms. “Daddy! Look, I got two gold stars on my math spelling test today!”
“Two gold stars?!” I swung him up into the air, making him laugh hysterically. “That means we have to make double-fudge sundaes after dinner, mister.”
Lily came running over next, holding up a small painted cardboard box. “Daddy, a lady at the park today told me to give you this! She said it was a surprise for Mommy’s wedding!”
My entire body went completely rigid.
I set Noah down gently on the grass, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Lily… what lady?”
Mrs. Garcia stood up from the patio bench, looking startled. “What are you talking about, Lily? Who spoke to you?”
“A lady in a pretty gray coat with dark sunglasses,” Lily said innocently, pointing toward the park across the street. “While Grandma was buying the strawberry ice pops from the cart. She asked if I was Lily Vance, patted my head, and gave me this little box.”
Mrs. Garcia gasped, pressing her hand over her mouth. “Dear God… Ethan, I was only at the ice cream cart for three minutes! The children were right on the grass near the park bench!”
“It’s okay, Mrs. Garcia,” I said calmly, trying to shield the children from my surging terror. “Noah, Lily, go inside with Grandma and wash your hands for dinner right now, please.”
Once the back door clicked shut, I took the small cardboard box, walked over to the patio table, and carefully pried open the lid using my pocket knife.
Inside, resting on a bed of black cotton, was a single, pristine silver cufflink—one of a matching set that Chloe had bought for me in Vancouver on my thirty-second birthday.
Beneath the cufflink was a handwritten note on expensive linen paper:
“Some debts cannot be wiped away by a judge’s gavel, Ethan. Tell your little accountant to drop the restitution claims by Friday, or the next gift will be delivered directly to the kindergarten playground.”
A terrifying, volcanic rage erupted inside my chest.
Threatening my contracts was corporate warfare. But stepping into a public park and approaching my six-year-old daughter was a fatal declaration of war.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Marcus Hayes.
“Call the Cook County State’s Attorney,” I said, my voice shaking with ice-cold fury. “And tell the tactical security detail you recommended to be at my house in twenty minutes. Vanessa Cole just signed her own death warrant.”
When Samantha arrived home twenty minutes later, she saw the private security SUV parked in the driveway and two armed guards standing near our front porch.
She walked into the kitchen, her eyes wide with fear. “Ethan, what happened?”
I brought her into the study, closed the door, and showed her the box and the handwritten note.
Samantha read the note, her face draining of color, then snapping into an expression of ferocious, unyielding maternal defiance that I had never seen before.
“They went near my daughter?” Samantha whispered, her voice dropping to a terrifying, deadly pitch.
“She approached Lily at the park while Mrs. Garcia was buying ice cream,” I said, wrapping my hands around hers. “We are moving the kids to the lake house in Wisconsin tonight with your mother and Aunt Patricia. Marcus is already securing round-the-clock armed private security for the property.”
“No,” Samantha said firmly, looking straight into my eyes.
May you like
I blinked in confusion. “Samantha, we have to protect the kids.”
“We will protect the kids, Ethan, but we are not running away like scared animals,” Samantha declared, pulling her laptop out of her leather bag. “Vanessa Cole thinks she’s playing corporate chess with two amateurs. She forgot that I have spent the last ten years tracking hidden assets and shell-company wire fraud for a living. She wants to use Chloe’s offshore money to blackmail us? Fine. Let’s take away every single cent she has left.”
