Chapter 6 - The Man in the Tweed Suit
The crisp rustle of heavy manila cardstock sliding through the narrow brass gap of the security chain felt deafening in the quiet foyer.
I looked down at the thick envelope resting on the small entry table, then back up at the man in the expensive gray tweed suit. His posture was rigid, professional, and entirely devoid of the chaotic panic that had defined my entire day.
"Julian Rhodes?" I repeated the name, the words tasting strange and heavy on my tongue. "I don't know any Julian Rhodes."
"He knows you, Mrs. Vance," the man replied, his voice calm and measured. "Or rather, he has been tracking the legal encumbrances on Aunt Ellen's property deed for quite some time. Mr. Rhodes operates Rhodes Capital out of Boston. He specializes in corporate reclamation and high-stakes equity restructuring."
I narrowed my eyes, keeping my hand firmly on the door frame. "Corporations don't hand-deliver private acquisition envelopes to residential porches on a Saturday afternoon unless they want something very specific. What does Mr. Rhodes have to do with my family?"
The man offered a polite, knowing smile, though his eyes remained entirely professional. "He knows about the twenty-four thousand dollars wired out of your personal savings account yesterday morning. He knows about George abandoning your daughter while she ran a high fever upstairs. And most importantly, Mr. Rhodes knows that Vance & Co. Salon is operating on a commercial lease that was fraudulently transferred under your Aunt Ellen's historical parcel registry."
My breath hitched slightly. The level of detail he was rattling off wasn't public record. It was the kind of intelligence that required a deep, aggressive financial audit executed in a matter of hours.
"Why would a billionaire venture capitalist care about a local nail salon and a residential property dispute?" I asked, my voice dropping into a sharp, investigative register.
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"Because," the man said softly, stepping back half a step to give me room, "Mr. Rhodes has a personal interest in seeing corrupt, predatory businessmen lose everything they've stolen. Open the envelope, Mrs. Vance. Your husband is currently driving back from Cape Cod, and you're going to need all the leverage you can get."
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