Chapter 2 - The Ghost in the Apartment
The private number for Rebecca Vance rang twice before a breathless, frantic voice answered on the third ring.
“Jonathan? Where are you? The ceremony is supposed to start in five minutes! Florence has been calling my phone, panicking that you’ve gone cold feet—”
“Rebecca, stop,” Jonathan interrupted, his voice terrifyingly calm as he walked down the quiet service corridor holding Leo. “Put Christina on the phone right now.”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Jonathan, she’s... she’s not well. She’s resting.”
“Rebecca. I have the USB drive. Leo gave it to me. I saw the video. I saw the documents.”
A heavy, shuddering sigh echoed through the speaker, followed by the rustling of fabric. A moment later, a weak, raspy voice replaced Rebecca’s.
“Dad?”
Hearing his daughter’s voice—shaky, bruised, and thick with pain—shattered whatever lingering denial Jonathan had left.
“Christina. Oh, my God. Are you okay? Where are you?” Jonathan’s voice cracked, the armor of his corporate composure slipping away for a split second before the rage rushed back in.
“I’m at Rebecca’s apartment,” Christina whispered, coughing softly. “Dad, I tried to warn you last night. When I confronted Florence with the papers I found in her dropped folder, she... she snapped. She said if I ruined her wedding day, she’d make sure I never saw Leo again. Then she shoved me against the bookshelf. I hit my head. When I woke up, my phone was gone, and she locked me in the bedroom. Rebecca came over this morning to check on me because I missed our weekly call, and she picked the lock.”
“Why didn’t you call the police immediately?” Jonathan demanded, though he already knew the answer. Florence was meticulous; she had likely threatened to frame Christina or use her influence to strip away custody of Leo.
“We were going to,” Christina said, her tone hardening with sudden resolve. “We were waiting for my lawyer to open his office at nine. But I knew Florence might intercept you before you could look at the drive. I told Leo to guard it with his life.”
Jonathan looked down at his grandson, who was solemnly sucking on his thumb, watching his grandfather with wide, trusting eyes.
“He did,” Jonathan said softly. “He saved us all, sweetheart. Now, listen to me very carefully. Do you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you, Dad. What are you going to do?”
“Florence thinks you’re out of commission, and she thinks I’m an ignorant old fool walking blindly into a financial execution,” Jonathan said, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the polished brass handles of the service exit. “She wants a wedding? I’m going to give her one. But the script has changed.”
“Dad, don’t do anything reckless. She has high-powered legal backing—some of those contracts have arbitration clauses that—l”
“Let her rely on her lawyers,” Jonathan interrupted, a cold, predatory smile touching his lips. “Because by the time I’m done with her today, she won't just lose my money. She’s going to lose her freedom.”
Jonathan hung up the phone before Christina could argue further. He dialed his personal corporate attorney, Marcus Vance—no relation to Rebecca, but a bulldog of a lawyer who had kept Prescott Enterprises afloat through three hostile takeovers.
Marcus answered on the first ring. “Jonathan? You’re thirty minutes late for your own wedding. The board members are asking if I can officiate just to get it over with.”
“Marcus, cancel the wedding march. I need you in the grand ballroom in exactly ten minutes. Bring two bailiffs, a notary public, and every single digital copy of the corporate audit logs regarding the Tahoe asset transfers from three months ago.”
There was a sharp silence on the other end. Marcus’s professional demeanor instantly shifted from casual jocularity to razor-sharp focus. “Did something happen?”
“Everything happened,” Jonathan said grimly. “Florence Fairmont is about to star in her own Greek tragedy. See you in ten minutes, Marcus. And bring the police liaison we retained for corporate security.”
Jonathan pocketed his phone, took a deep breath, and adjusted Leo’s crooked bow tie.
“Ready, buddy?” Jonathan asked.
May you like
Leo nodded solemnly, sliding his small hand back into Jonathan’s grip. “Are we going to trick the bad lady?”
“We aren't just going to trick her, Leo,” Jonathan murmured, his eyes locking onto the heavy double doors of the ballroom. “We’re going to give her a performance she’ll never forget.”
