Arthur's brows furrowed. Vance Pharmaceuticals was the subsidiary firm owned by Eleanor's family before their merger four years ago.
"Three nights ago," Leo continued, his voice dropping to an anxious whisper, "Mrs. Vance came to Daniel's private lab late at night. She threatened to frame him for industrial espionage unless he handed over a classified compound called Phantasm—an experimental neurotoxin designed to induce a deep, comatose state mimicking brain death for up to seventy-two hours."
"Why would she do that to Lily?" Arthur asked, his fist clenching so hard his knuckles turned white.
"Because of your first wife's estate," Leo answered, looking straight into Arthur's eyes. "My brother overheard her talking on an encrypted line. Your late wife left her multi-billion-dollar trust directly to Lily, with you as the trustee. But there was a clause: if Lily passed away before her eighteenth birthday without direct heirs, control of the trust and forty percent of Vance Financial's voting shares would automatically revert to Eleanor's family estate."
Arthur felt a sickening pit open in his stomach. The sinister elegance of the plot was horrifying. Eleanor hadn't just planned to poison Lily; she planned to let her be buried alive, only to exhume the body hours later under the cover of night to ensure her permanent death without leaving a trace of foul play in a standard autopsy.
"Where is your brother now?" Arthur asked urgently.
Tears welled up in Leo's eyes. "When Daniel realized what she was going to do, he tried to contact the federal authorities. But Eleanor's mercenaries broke into our apartment last night and dragged him away. I barely managed to hide in the ventilation shaft. I ran straight to the funeral because I knew today was the only day to stop the burial."
Before Arthur could speak, heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. Detective Miller, chief of the homicide division, approached with a grim expression on his face.
"Mr. Vance, we located Eleanor's escape vehicle abandoned down by the industrial shipping docks," Miller reported, pulling off his wet coat. "The driver was found shot dead behind the wheel. Eleanor is gone, but our forensic team recovered an encrypted laptop from the trunk."
Miller opened his leather briefcase, pulled out a thick file, and handed it to Arthur. "It's worse than we thought, Mr. Vance. Eleanor didn't just target your daughter. For the past six months, she has been funneling hundreds of millions out of your corporate accounts into offshore shell companies—and planting a paper trail that makes it look like YOU were laundering the money for a cartel."
Arthur flipped through the forged bank documents, his face darkening with absolute cold rage. "She wanted everything. My daughter's life, my fortune, and my freedom."
"She didn't act alone," Detective Miller added. "A syndicate is backing her. And right now, they hold Leo's brother hostage."
Chapter 4: The Docks of No Return
Arthur's private encrypted phone vibrated on the hospital table. The caller ID was restricted.
Arthur signalled to Detective Miller to trace the signal before hitting the speaker button. "Eleanor."
"Hello, Arthur," her voice smoothed over the line, completely devoid of the panic she had exhibited at the graveyard. She sounded cold, calculated, and terrifyingly calm. "I must congratulate you. You played the grieving, heroic father quite convincingly today."
"Where is Daniel?" Arthur demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "If you harm that boy's brother, there isn't a corner of this earth where you can hide from me."
Eleanor let out a chilling, melodious laugh. "Oh, Arthur. You always overestimate your leverage. Daniel is currently tied to a chair in the basement of Northside Chemical Processing Plant at Pier 42. He has roughly one hour before the chemical scrubbers are turned off, filling the room with toxic nitrogen gas."
"What do you want?"
"I want what was promised to me," Eleanor hissed, her voice suddenly dripping with venom. "I spent five insufferable years playing the dutiful stepmother to your brat, catering to your arrogance while my family's business was swallowed by your empire! I want the signed transfer papers for the offshore accounts, along with the master decryption key on your desk at Vance Tower. Bring them to Pier 42 alone. No police, no security. If I see a single flashing light, I press the button, and Daniel dies instantly."
The line went dead.