Chapter 6 - The Visitor at the Threshold
Marcus Vance stood on my porch like a man who owned the land beneath my feet. His gray suit was immaculate, his silver hair neatly parted, and his expression devoid of any human warmth. Behind him, the tall man in the trench coat remained silent, hands folded neatly in front of him, radiating an intimidating professional stillness.
I didn't open the screen door all the way. I kept it latched, my fingers gripping the aluminum frame.
"You have the wrong house, Mr. Vance," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline spiking in my chest. "And you have no business here."
Vance smiled thinly, a movement that didn't reach his eyes. His gaze flicked past my shoulder into the dim hallway, searching. "I think we both know I have the exact right house, Charles. And the right person. Arthur tells me that certain documents—personal property belonging to Vance Capital—were taken from his residence last night. I'm here to ensure they are returned before this escalates into a legal matter neither of us wants to navigate."
"Arthur is welcome to come and ask me himself," I replied, holding my ground. "Though I imagine he's a bit busy pretending he has nothing to do with corporate embezzlement or the forged signatures he left behind on my daughter's bank records."
The thin smile vanished from Vance's face, replaced by a cold, calculating hardness. He took a deliberate step forward, pressing his palm against the screen door.
"Rose was a lovely, talented woman," Vance said quietly, lowering his voice so it wouldn't carry into the house. "It's a tragedy what happened to her. Illness is so unpredictable. But a grieving grandfather trying to play forensic accountant? That’s not a tragedy, Charles. That’s a liability. For you, and more importantly, for those three little girls inside who rely entirely on your pension to keep a roof over their heads."
The implicit threat hit me like a physical blow. He wasn't just talking about lawsuits; he was threatening my custody of Lucy, Rachel, and April.
Before I could answer, a soft click echoed behind me.
I turned my head slightly to see Lucy standing at the end of the hallway. She wasn't hiding. She held the blue linen journal in one hand and the flash drive in the other, her dark eyes blazing with a fierce, quiet courage that mirrored her mother's.
"He's lying, Grandpa," Lucy said clearly, her voice carrying through the open doorway. "Dr. Hayes already has the digital copies. You're too late."
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Vance’s eyes darted past me, locking onto the twelve-year-old girl. For a fraction of a second, the mask of corporate composure slipped, revealing genuine panic.
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