Chapter 12 - Shadows of the Past
The tension in the ground-floor security reception area was thick enough to cut with a surgical scalpel.
Dr. Malcolm Voss stood near the polished brass turnstiles, looking older and far less immaculate than he had at Wolf Manor.
His silver hair was slightly disheveled, and his expensive bespoke suit jacket was unbuttoned.
Flanking him were two bailiffs and a junior magistrate holding a stamped legal envelope.
Norah and Gideon walked out of the express elevator, their footsteps echoing sharply across the marble floor.
"Gideon," Voss sneer-smiled, stepping forward with feigned confidence.
"I see you survived your little medical emergency."
"Too bad your new foundation is about to be shut down before its ribbon-cutting ceremony."
Gideon stopped three feet away from the physician, his presence radiating an intimidating, predatory chill.
"You lost your medical license, Voss," Gideon said, his voice dropping into a dangerous baritone.
"If you take one more step toward this building, I will have Luca throw you through the plate-glass window."
"I didn't come here as a practicing physician, Mr. Wolf," Voss retorted, holding up the legal document.
"I came as the court-appointed medical trustee for the late Julian Wolf’s estate."
"According to Julian’s private corporate portfolio, a twenty percent voting block of Wolf Global Logistics was pledged to me as a consulting retainer three days before his death."
"Which means I am legally entitled to a seat on the board of directors of this foundation."
Norah stepped forward, her eyes flashing with sharp intelligence.
"That clause in Julian’s portfolio was executed under coercion and mutual fraud," Norah said clearly, pulling a folded document from her leather portfolio.
"We audited Julian’s personal accounts yesterday."
"The retainer fee paid to Dr. Voss was funneled directly from the same Cayman Island shell company registered to Aegis Holding Trust—Elena’s illegal slush fund."
Voss’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of crimson.
"That’s a fabricated accusation by an uneducated maid playing corporate executive!" Voss shouted, his voice cracking.
"Show it to the magistrate!" Norah commanded calmly, handing her file to the junior judge standing beside the bailiffs.
The magistrate opened the folder, scanned the certified bank routing numbers, and cross-referenced them with the Department of Justice asset seizure warrants issued two days prior.
The magistrate’s eyes widened.
"Good heavens," the magistrate whispered, lowering the paper.
"Dr. Voss... these accounts were officially frozen by federal anti-money-laundering indictments yesterday morning."
"Any contract tied to these funds is legally null and void."
Voss spun around, grabbing the magistrate’s arm.
"You can't do that! That retainer was my pension!"
"Guards," Luca called out, stepping forward with two massive security operatives.
"Escort Dr. Voss off the property before I forget I'm a reformed man."
Voss screamed and thrashed as the guards grabbed him by the arms, dragging him backward across the marble floor while shouting empty legal threats until the revolving doors swallowed him outside.
Silence returned to the lobby.
The magistrate bowed his head apologetically, tucked his briefcase under his arm, and hurried out behind the bailiffs.
Gideon turned to look at Norah, a profound look of admiration shining in his dark eyes.
"You didn't just check the bank records," Gideon said quietly.
"You anticipated his counterattack before he even reached the lobby."
"People like Voss only know one playbook," Norah replied, a faint smile touching her lips.
"They think money and titles make them untouchable."
"They forget that paperwork leaves a trail, and desperate men make sloppy mistakes."
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Gideon stepped closer to her—close enough that Norah could feel the faint, clean scent of his cedarwood cologne.
"Sometimes," Gideon murmured softly, his gaze locked onto hers, "I wonder how I survived thirty-eight years without you standing beside me."
