Chapter 9 - The Corporate Predator
Gwen’s mind raced as she sized up the intruder. The studio suddenly felt claustrophobic, the walls closing in as the shadows of the past reached out to grab them once more.
"Who are you?" Gwen demanded, stepping forward to shield the table where Sarah’s dossier lay. "You are trespassing on private property. If you don't walk back out that door right now, I will dial emergency services."
The man offered a thin, humorless smile that didn't reach his eyes. He reached inside his jacket pocket, slowly extracting a sleek leather business card holder. He pulled out a black card embossed with silver lettering and placed it gently on the edge of the nearest work desk.
Vanguard Global Holdings — Director of Acquisitions & Compliance.
Marcus Sterling.
"You can call the police, Ms. Vance," Marcus said calmly, his voice smooth as polished glass. "By the time they arrive, however, we will already have what we came for. And more importantly, you will realize that calling the authorities will only bring an undesirable amount of media attention to your niece—the child whose birth certificate lists a complex, highly irregular gestational surrogacy arrangement involving a convicted felon and an anonymous egg swap."
Sarah shrank back against the wall, her hands trembling violently. "How... how do you know about that?"
Marcus turned his cold gaze toward Sarah. "My firm represents the original investors of the land your father acquired back in 1994. The trust wasn't just a standard inheritance pool; it was tied to a biological patent trust. Your father genetically engineered a specific physical marker across his offspring to track asset distribution rights. When the child—little Maya—was born with the exact spinal marker, our sensors flagged the activation of the trust protocol."
Gwen felt the blood drain from her face. Genetically engineered? The phrase echoed in her mind like a sick joke. Was their father’s narcissism so deep that he had turned his own bloodline into a corporate stock portfolio?
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"She’s a two-year-old toddler," Gwen hissed, trembling with a fury so intense it burned cold. "She is not a stock option. She is a human being."
"Legally speaking," Marcus replied smoothly, lifting his titanium briefcase onto the desk, "she is the sole surviving key to a forty-million-dollar asset liquidation. And my employers are prepared to ensure that custody of that key is transferred to a secure corporate trust—voluntarily, or through prolonged, highly destructive litigation that will strip your friend Lauren of everything she owns."
