Chapter 2: The Vanguard of the Fallen
"What are you talking about?" Victoria hissed, backing away toward her legal team who were frantically typing on their tablets. "My late husband built Vance Logistics from the ground up! You're an outsider! A nobody we took in out of charity!"
"I am Clara Sterling," the bride said, her voice dropping an octave, carrying a weight that made the senior board members in the front row instantly drop to their knees to look at her.
The name Sterling hit the courtyard like a kinetic strike.
The Sterling Group was the largest maritime shipping conglomerate on the eastern seaboard—the very company that Vance Logistics had been desperately trying to secure a merger with for the past eighteen months.
"Six years ago, my father, Alexander Sterling, died in a sudden, unexplained warehouse fire in the north docks," Clara said, stepping closer to Julian, who flinched as if she were armed.
"Your husband was the safety inspector who signed off on the faulty wiring report."
"And three months later, Vance Logistics magically acquired sixty percent of our northern shipping lanes for pennies on the dollar."
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Clara reached into the small, waterproof pouch concealed within the structural boning of her bodice. She didn't pull out another recording device. She pulled out a certified, red-sealed federal indictment.
"I didn't lose the use of my legs in an accident, Julian," Clara whispered, her gaze boring into his soul. "I went into that wheelchair because three years ago, your mother's security team tried to run my car off the road in Zapopan when I started digging into the offshore shell accounts. I let the world believe I was paralyzed so you would stop looking for me. I let you think I was weak so you would bring me right into the center of your house."
