Chapter 10 - The Turning Point: Moving into the Counter-Offensive Against Marcus Vance
The ride back to the Upper East Side townhouse was enveloped in a tense, heavy silence that felt entirely different from the panic of the previous night.
Mr. Henderson had broken down completely on the sidewalk, stammering apologies before scurrying away into the night like a frightened rat, leaving the incriminating manila envelope lying in the gutter where our security guard casually kicked it into a storm drain.
Back in the grand study, Chase poured himself a finger of scotch, swirling the amber liquid in a crystal glass while staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the glittering Manhattan skyline.
I sat on the edge of the leather sofa, resting my hands over my stomach, watching him process the events of the evening.
“You handled him like a seasoned litigator,” Chase said without turning around, his voice low and rich.
“I thought you were going to panic.”
“I was terrified, Chase,” I admitted honestly, looking down at my hands.
“My heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to break my ribs. But I’m tired of running. Every time I tried to hide, your world caught up with me anyway. If we’re going to survive Marcus Vance, I have to learn how to fight back.”
Chase turned around then, walking slowly across the room until he was standing right in front of me.
He set his glass down on the table, knelt down on one knee, and gently placed his warm palm over mine where it rested on my stomach.
“You don’t have to fight alone anymore, Claire,” he said, his dark eyes locking onto mine with fierce, unwavering devotion.
“Julian called ten minutes before we walked through the door. Our shell corporation trap worked. Marcus Vance just wired forty million dollars into an unverified offshore acquisition account to block what he thought was my tech liquidation.”
I blinked in surprise.
“He took the bait?”
“Hook, line, and sinker,” Chase smiled grimly.
“Julian’s forensic accounting team has already flagged the transfer as suspicious financial movement and forwarded the evidence directly to federal regulators. By tomorrow morning, Marcus Vance’s primary liquidity will be frozen under federal investigation.”
A wave of sheer, unadulterated relief washed over me.
For the first time in five months, the suffocating cloud of fear that had followed me everywhere began to lift.
“Does that mean… we’re safe?” I asked softly.
Chase reached up, his thumb gently caressing my cheek, his expression softening into something tender and profoundly vulnerable.
“It means we’re winning, Claire,” he whispered.
“And once this war is over, and Marcus Vance is stripped of his empire, there is only one thing left on my agenda.”
My breath caught.
“What’s that?”
May you like
Chase reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small, dark velvet box that made my heart skip a frantic beat.
“Finding you that rooftop in the rain,” he murmured, opening the box to reveal a stunning, flawless diamond ring that caught the ambient penthouse light.
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