Part 7
Ethan unlocked the heavy wooden door,
stepping back as Julian Vance entered the house.
The fixer stepped inside,
shaking the light rain from his expensive umbrella.
He looked around the modest living room,
an expression of polite disdain on his face.
"A charming place,"
Julian remarked,
setting his umbrella in the corner holder.
"A bit small for a Whitmore,
but I suppose it has character."
"You are trespassing,
Vance,"
Ethan said,
standing firmly between Julian and the hallway.
Julian smiled,
adjusting the cuffs of his gray suit jacket with ease.
"I am simply delivering a message in person,
as a courtesy,"
he replied.
"I noticed you did not respond to my phone call,
Ethan."
"And I see you have chosen to ignore my very generous advice."
Ava walked out from the kitchen,
her cane clicking loudly against the hardwood.
"We do not take advice from extortionists,"
she said,
her voice steady and cold.
Julian turned to look at her,
his eyes scanning her face with practiced calculation.
"Ah,
the resilient Mrs. Whitmore,"
he murmured,
bowing his head slightly.
"Your recovery is truly a medical miracle,
given the circumstances."
"But pride can be a very dangerous thing for a recovering patient."
"Are you threatening my wife in my own home?"
Ethan demanded,
taking a step forward.
Julian raised his hands smoothly,
maintaining his calm,
infuriating smile.
"Not at all,
Ethan,
I am a man of peace and law,"
he stated.
"I am here to inform you that the federal court has accepted my filing."
"As of this morning,
the Lena Hope Initiative's accounts are frozen pending investigation."
Lena,
who was listening from the top of the stairs,
gasped audibly.
Julian looked up,
spotting her,
and his smile widened into something genuinely sinister.
"And Miss Lena Hope will soon receive a subpoena regarding her employment history,"
he added.
"We found some interesting discrepancies in your previous tax filings,
my dear."
"You are fabricating evidence,"
Ethan shouted,
his fists clenching at his sides.
"Fabrication is a harsh word,"
Julian replied smoothly,
picking up his briefcase.
"I prefer to call it deep research into the background of my opponents."
"You thought you won when you put Margaret in a cell,
Ethan."
"But her wealth built an empire,
and that empire protects itself automatically."
"You have twenty-four hours left before the media destroys your reputation permanently."
"After that,
even your father's old friends will not look at you."
He turned toward the door,
stopping for a brief moment to look back at them.
"Enjoy your evening,"
he said softly,
stepping back out into the rain.
The door clicked shut,
leaving a heavy,
suffocating silence in the room.
Ethan turned to Ava,
his face pale with a mixture of rage and worry.
"He is going after Lena now,"
Ethan said,
his voice shaking slightly.
"He is trying to break us by targeting the people we love."
Ava walked over to him,
placing her hand gently over his clenched fist.
"He is doing this because he is afraid of those offshore papers,
Ethan,"
she whispered.
May you like
"He knows we have the power to destroy him,
and he is desperate."
