Chapter 4: The Empty Vault
The surveillance feed from the Vance townhouse was a study in desperation. Mara leaned back in her chair, watching Beatrice tear through the opulent master study. The usually poised PR director was a frantic mess. She had kicked off her designer heels, and her manicured hands were shaking as she spun the dial on the hidden wall safe behind a large abstract painting.
Mara turned up the audio feed. A sharp, mechanical click echoed through the speakers, followed by a heavy thud as Beatrice yanked the heavy steel door open.
A choked, breathless sob escaped Beatrice’s throat. The safe, which typically held a small fortune in bearer bonds, offshore account routing numbers, and emergency passports, was completely empty. The only thing resting on the velvet-lined shelf was a single, black chess piece—a queen.
Mara smiled. She had compromised the townhouse's security system weeks ago, slipping in during one of Beatrice and Julian’s highly publicized charity dinners.
On the screen, Beatrice staggered backward, collapsing into Julian’s leather armchair. She pulled out her phone, her fingers fumbling over the screen. A moment later, Mara’s burner phone vibrated on the desk. She let it ring three times before answering, disguising her voice through a digital modulator.
"Who is this?" Beatrice’s voice was shrill, teetering on the edge of hysteria. "Where is it? Where is everything?"
"Good morning, Beatrice," Mara’s synthesized, mechanical voice replied. "I see you found the gift I left you."
"Mara? Is that you? You're insane! The police are going to lock you up forever!"
"The police are currently pulling up to your front gate," Mara said calmly. "Julian's empire was built on a foundation of sand, Beatrice, and the tide just came in. The SEC has all the internal memos. The ones you thought you destroyed."
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"No, no, no..." Beatrice whispered, her eyes darting toward the townhouse windows as the flashing red and blue lights painted the walls of the study.
"You have about two minutes before the FBI breaches your front door. I suggest you retain a very good lawyer. Though, with your accounts frozen, you might have to settle for a public defender." Mara disconnected the call, watching with cold satisfaction as federal agents swarmed the feed, battering down the mahogany doors of Julian's sanctuary.
