Chapter 8 - The Return To The Brownstone
The drive back through the midnight rain was a blur of flashing tail lights and wet asphalt. The city felt smaller now, compressed by the heavy gray clouds that hung low over the industrial waterfront. Every mile I put behind me felt like a necessary line drawn in the dirt between the world of corporate predators and the small, fragile life waiting for me inside the fortified brownstone. My fingers gripped the steering wheel, the leather cold beneath my palms, while the accordion file containing Arthur's confessions rested heavily on the passenger seat like an unexploded shell.
When I pulled the car into the private alley behind the brownstone, the heavy iron gate swung open automatically as Viktor caught sight of the headlights. I killed the engine and stepped out into the steady drizzle, the water instantly flattening my dark hair against my forehead. Viktor was waiting by the side door, his trench coat soaked through at the shoulders, a suppressed automatic rifle held low at his side.
"Clean?" I asked, keeping my voice low as I approached the steps.
"Clean," Viktor nodded, his eyes scanning the empty alleyway before fixing on my face. "No tails. No local cruisers within three blocks. How was the reunion?"
"Informative," I replied, holding up the file. "Arthur signed over the custody papers under duress, and I've got the bank routing numbers for the offshore accounts he used to hide the asset transfer. He thought he could bury her in the dirt and split the inheritance with the board."
Viktor let out a harsh, dry breath that plumed into the damp night air. "Some people don't know when to quit gambling with other people's lives. What's the next move? We take this to the feds?"
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"Not yet," I said, unlocking the heavy oak door and stepping inside the warm, dimly lit hallway. The smell of cedar, old paper, and faint woodsmoke drifted down from the upper levels. "Federal prosecutors move too slow when politicians are involved. I want a complete forensic audit of every shell company connected to the estate before sunrise. If anyone else in that boardroom touched my daughter's inheritance, I want their names on my desk."
He gave a sharp nod, turning back toward his vehicle parked near the garage. "You'll have it by dawn, Boss."
