Chapter 8 - BLOOD MONEY
The nerve center of Sterling Capital had been transformed into a war room. Whiteboards covered in red marker vectors, financial flowcharts, and court subpoenas stretched across the top floor of the building. Coffee cups littering the glass tables smelled of stale espresso, and the hum of high-powered servers filled the silence.
Elias threw a thick blue folder onto the central conference table. "We hit paydirt, Richard. But it’s worse than we thought."
Vance adjusted his glasses, sliding a laptop toward Richard. "When David Harrison said he was protecting his empire, he was lying. He wasn't protecting it—he was hiding its corpse."
Richard looked at the financial readouts. "Explain."
"The Harrison Group is completely hollowed out," Elias said, pointing at a series of massive red ledgers. "David made catastrophic bets on foreign real estate and subprime debt five years ago. He lost nearly four billion dollars. To keep the firm afloat and prevent a total market panic, he started looting his family's private charitable trusts—including Claire’s trust fund."
"Claire caught him," Richard realized, his hands tightening into fists. "That’s why she went to his office the week before she died."
"Exactly," Vance chimed in. "She ran her own audit. She discovered her father was running a glorified multi-billion-dollar Ponzi scheme. When she threatened to turn over the ledgers to federal prosecutors, she became a threat to his survival. If Harrison Group collapses, half the banking sector in New York takes a hit."
Suddenly, Elias’s phone buzzed violently on the table. He picked it up, listened for three seconds, and his face went completely pale.
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"What is it?" Richard asked.
"It’s Julian Vance," Elias whispered, staring at his screen. "David Harrison’s chief financial officer. He just sent an encrypted message to my private server. He says he has the hard drive containing the real toxicology report from Claire’s autopsy. And he wants five million cash to trade it tonight."
