Chapter 7 - The Shadows Stir
The ink on the settlement agreement was barely dry when the first anonymous threats began to arrive at the Rosewood estate.
Victoria was sitting in the conservatory, reviewing the morning financial portfolios with Chloe, when Charles entered the room with a silver tray carrying a heavy, unmarked envelope sealed in dark red wax.
“This was left at the outer security gatehouse twenty minutes ago, Madam,” Charles said, his voice tight with professional concern. “The private detail ran it through the scanner. No explosives, but the contents... require your immediate attention.”
Victoria set her tablet down and broke the seal. Inside lay a single sheet of heavy cardstock bearing a printed message cut from old newspaper clippings:
“You think you cleared the name, Victoria? The foundation was built on blood, not just paper. Dig any deeper into the 2004 shipping contracts, and your sister’s new life won't survive the winter.”
Chloe leaned over the table, her eyes widening in alarm. “Aunt Vicki... what does that mean? Who sent this?”
“It means the people who helped my father bury our family’s secrets aren't finished yet,” Victoria said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, cold register. She stood up immediately, grabbing her phone. “Charles, double the security detail around Emily and Thomas’s home in Queens immediately. No one enters or leaves without my direct sign-off.”
While Victoria dialed her head of private security, across town in an underground parking garage beneath a federal storage facility, Marcus Vance sat handcuffed in the back of a black unmarked sedan.
He thought he was safe. He thought his plea deal with the District Attorney’s office had granted him immunity from the ghosts of his past.
The rear door of the sedan opened, letting in a draft of damp, exhaust-filled air. A tall man in a dark trench coat slipped into the seat beside him, slamming the door shut.
“Marcus,” a smooth, chilling voice spoke from the shadows of the vehicle.
Marcus jerked his head around, his face turning the color of ash. “You... you’re supposed to be in Zurich! If the Feds find out you’re here—if they trace this meeting—we’re both finished!”
“The Feds are looking where Victoria Rosewood points them,” the man replied smoothly, leaning forward. “Which is why you need to ensure she stops pointing. The 2004 shipping manifests contain records of offshore accounts that implicate half the senior partners in this city—including people who can make your prison sentence look like a permanent vacation if you talk too much.”
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“I already signed the confession!” Marcus panicked, his voice cracking. “Victoria has the files!”
“She has copies,” the man corrected coldly, pressing the cold barrel of a suppressed pistol against Marcus’s ribs. “Recover the originals from her safe by midnight. Or your plea deal won't be the only thing that gets canceled.”
