Chapter 8
Marco worked through night,
tracing the digital ghost,
across multiple proxy servers.
The signal bounced rapidly,
from Iceland to Zurich,
hiding its true home.
Clara stayed in office,
reviewing old Vance ledgers,
seeking any hidden connection.
She found a name,
written in faded ink,
buried in secret archives.
It was a company,
called the Obsidian Crest,
dissolved ten years ago.
But the bank accounts,
linked to that name,
were suddenly active again. Millions of dollars,
moved through the dark,
without a single trace.
Clara leaned back tiredly,
rubbing her aching temples,
as the clock struck,
two in the morning.
The office was silent,
except for the hum,
of the cooling fans.
She knew Julian Vance,
had secrets hidden deep,
from the world's eyes.
He had secret partners,
who shared his greed,
and his cruel desires.
Now those secret partners,
were waking up slowly,
seeking their lost share.
Marco walked back in,
his eyes bloodshot red,
holding a printed report.
"I found the source,
it came from London,
a private dockyard there."
Clara looked at paper,
seeing the exact address,
of the mysterious sender.
"Who owns the place?"
she asked with authority,
her voice steady and,
completely filled with focus.
"A man named Blackwood,
an old associate of,
the Vance family empire."
Clara tightened her fist,
feeling the anger rise,
but keeping it controlled.
"He wants a war,
and he thinks I,
am still that girl,
who cannot walk away,
from their cruel games."
She stood up tall,
looking out at skyline,
defiant and totally prepared.
"Prepare the private jet,
we are going across,
the vast Atlantic Ocean."
Marco nodded his head,
knowing she meant business,
and left to pack.
The battle lines drawn,
the enemy was waiting,
in the rainy city.
But Clara Vance Sterling,
feared absolutely nothing now,
under the midnight stars.
She would meet them,
May you like
and destroy their plans,
before they even started.
