Chapter 4 - The Confrontation with Mr. Vance
Armed with the truth, I knew I had to act carefully. If I went to the local police with the flash drive, there was a high chance Vance had corrupt officers on his payroll. Dr. Evans, the coroner who signed off on Clara's fake suicide, was already proof of that.
I needed federal intervention, but first, I needed a confession.
I left Lily safely with my trusted sister-in-law and drove straight to the Vance Logistics headquarters. It was 9:00 AM on a Monday. The office was bustling with employees completely unaware of the criminal empire they were operating within.
I barged into Richard Vance’s corner office, ignoring his secretary’s protests. Vance looked up from his mahogany desk, adjusting his expensive glasses.
"Alex! My boy," he said smoothly, leaning back. "I heard about Clara. A terrible tragedy. Why aren't you at home grieving?"
"Cut the crap, Richard," I said, locking the heavy office door behind me. I walked over and slammed my hands on his desk. "I know everything. I know about the smuggling. I know about Beatrice’s funeral home. And I know you had Clara killed."
Vance didn't flinch. He picked up a silver pen and twirled it between his fingers. "Those are very heavy accusations, Alex. Sounds like the grief is making you delusional."
"My daughter saw my brother kick the door in. The police have Derek. It's only a matter of time before he cracks," I bluffed, hoping to rattle him.
Vance sighed, dropping the pen. His friendly demeanor vanished, replaced by the cold, dead eyes of a cartel boss. "Derek is a fool. Your mother is a greedy idiot. I told them to handle the situation quietly. Clara was sticking her nose where it didn't belong. I gave your family a choice: either she goes away, or you all do. They chose to protect themselves."
My blood ran cold. "You made my own mother authorize the murder of my wife?"
"Business is business, Alex," Vance said, reaching slowly toward his desk drawer. "Your mother loves money more than she loves you. Now, you have a choice. You can walk out that door, take a promotion, and keep your mouth shut. Or you can join Clara."
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I saw the glint of a gun barrel as he pulled open the drawer. Relying on my military training before I joined the logistics firm, I lunged across the desk. I grabbed his wrist, slamming it hard against the wood. The gun clattered to the floor. I drove my fist into his jaw, dropping him instantly.
I picked up the gun, my hands shaking with rage. I wanted to end him right there. But Clara deserved justice, not just vengeance. I pocketed his weapon, took his personal cellphone from the desk, and walked out.
