Chapter 11 - The Phoenix Rises
Forty-eight hours later, the Vance estate was shrouded in heavy security.
Clara sat by the bay window of Raymond’s study, a warm cashmere blanket draped over her shoulders, her bandaged ankle propped on an ottoman. Outside, tactical teams patrolled the sprawling gardens, their silhouettes sharp against the gray morning mist.
Raymond stood behind his mahogany desk, reviewing the financial reports flashing across three large monitors. The press had labeled the dock explosion an industrial accident, but the financial markets were bleeding. Someone was aggressively shorting Vance Holdings stock, dumping billions of dollars into panic trades.
""It's her,"" Clara said softly, turning her head. ""She's using the bearer bonds from your safe.""
Raymond looked up, his expression unreadable. ""Let her spend them.""
""Why? She's trying to ruin you, Raymond! She wants you bankrupt before she finishes what she started!""
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Raymond walked over and placed a warm mug of tea into Clara's hands. ""Those bearer bonds were tied to a frozen trust account flagged by Interpol three years ago. The moment she attempts to liquidate them through a foreign exchange, her exact IP address and physical location ping my terminal.""
Right on cue, a shrill alert chimed from Raymond's laptop. A red coordinate blinked on the world map: a private penthouse in downtown Manhattan.
