Chapter 9
At ten thirty that morning,
a fleet of black federal SUVs pulled up to the front entrance of the Apex Logistics building on Michigan Avenue.
Armed federal marshals and investigators from the Internal Revenue Service poured into the marble lobby,
flashing federal search warrants to the stunned security officers.
Rory Carter walked through the front doors alongside Federal Prosecutor Sarah Jenkins,
her dark navy suit immaculate,
her posture straight,
and her silver fountain pen tucked safely inside her jacket.
They rode the private executive elevator directly to the thirty-eighth floor.
When the elevator doors slid open,
the floor was in utter chaos.
Executive assistants were running between cubicles,
shredding documents,
and pulling hard drives from computer towers.
Marcus Vance stood inside his glass-walled corner office,
sweat pouring down his forehead,
frantically stuffing stacks of bearer bonds and foreign currency into a leather duffel bag.
Rory pushed open the heavy glass door of his office,
her heels clicking against the marble floor.
"You are too late,"
Vance shouted,
his voice cracking with desperation as he slammed the duffel bag shut.
"My legal team is already filing an injunction in federal court!"
he roared,
glaring at Prosecutor Jenkins.
"You can't freeze accounts based on an unverified third-party audit!"
he screamed,
his tie loosened,
his shirt collar unbuttoned,
his arrogant facade completely shattered.
"We didn't freeze your accounts based on the audit,
Marcus,"
Sarah Jenkins said calmly,
stepping forward and displaying a signed federal arrest warrant.
"We froze your accounts because two hours ago,"
Jenkins explained,
"you executed an unauthorized twelve-million-dollar international wire transfer from an unregistered computer."
"You gave us the exact IP address,"
Rory added,
stepping closer to his desk.
"You gave us the bank routing signatures,"
she continued,
"and you gave us the direct paper trail linking Crestview Capital to David Sterling's old fraud accounts."
Vance stumbled backward,
his legs hitting his heavy leather chair as he stared at Rory in sheer terror.
"Who are you?"
Vance choked out,
his hands shaking uncontrollably as two federal marshals stepped up behind him.
"I told you yesterday,"
Rory said softly,
her voice echoing clearly in the quiet office.
"I am the daughter of Clara Carter,"
she declared,
her eyes burning with absolute triumph.
"I am the girl whose mother you tried to starve twenty years ago,"
she reminded him.
"And I am the auditor who came back to collect every single cent you owe."
The federal marshals grabbed Vance's arms,
pulling his hands behind his back and clicking iron handcuffs around his wrists.
"You can't do this to me!"
Vance screamed as he was pulled toward the office door.
"I built this city!"
he yelled,
his voice echoing down the hallway as employees watched in stunned silence.
"I own this firm!"
he shrieked,
his voice fading into the distance as he was led toward the freight elevator.
Rory stood alone in the center of Vance's grand office,
looking out over the Chicago skyline.
She reached into her jacket,
pulled out her silver pen,
and uncapped it with a sharp,
satisfying click.
She walked over to Vance's pristine desk,
picked up his master corporate register,
May you like
and drew a single,
perfect purple star across the front cover.
