Chapter 4 - The Corporate Viper
The next morning, the hotel was in a state of high tension. The gala was just hours away. I had spent the night scouring the digital archives of the hotel's server. What I found was a web of deceit that reached far higher than the front desk.
Julian Thorne, the Chief Operating Officer I had appointed to run things while I was "away," had been siphoning millions into shell companies. And, as I suspected, he was the one who had signed off on the "deferred maintenance" three years ago.
I found him in the executive lounge, sipping an espresso and reviewing the gala guest list. He didn't look up when I approached, assuming I was some low-level staff member here to clean.
"You're late," Thorne snapped, not looking up. "The floor in the ballroom is scuffed. Get someone to polish it before the board arrives. And for heaven’s sake, stop hovering."
I pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him. I had cleaned up, shaved, and put on a suit I kept in the room’s safe, but my eyes were still hard with the revelation of the previous night.
Thorne finally looked up, his eyes narrowing. "Who the hell are you? And why are you sitting here?"
"I’m the man who owns the chair you’re sitting in, Julian," I said calmly.
Thorne laughed, a sharp, condescending sound. "Is that so? And I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re Ethan Vance?"
"I am," I replied. "And we need to talk about the night of June 14th, three years ago. We need to talk about the maintenance logs, the gas leak, and the money you’ve been funneling out of this company since I left."
Thorne’s expression shifted instantly. The arrogance vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating look of a trapped predator. He reached under the table, perhaps for his phone, perhaps for something else.
"You've been gone a long time, Ethan," Thorne said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You’re a ghost. And you know what they say about ghosts? They don't have any legal standing in a courtroom. You want to bring me down? You’ll have to get through the entire Board of Directors first. And guess who they listen to—you, the 'broken' widower, or me, the man who tripled their dividends while you were off playing house?"
May you like
He stood up, adjusting his cuffs. "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Vance. I’d hate for anything else... unfortunate to happen to your family while you're visiting."
He walked away, leaving me alone in the lounge. He had just threatened my daughter. The gloves were officially off.
