Chapter 10 - The Counter-Strike
The rain beat a steady, hypnotic rhythm against the windshield as Claire’s car wound its way through the quiet residential streets, pulling up safely outside my modest rented apartment twenty minutes later.
Through the front window, I could see the soft, warm glow of a desk lamp—the babysitter sitting quietly on the sofa while Owen and Maisie slept soundly upstairs, completely unaware of the corporate war being fought on their behalf.
I reached for the door handle, pausing before I pushed it open. I turned to look at Claire.
"You threw away your career tonight," I said softly, my voice filled with a heavy, profound gratitude. "Travis will fire you by morning when he realizes you helped me escape."
Claire turned off the ignition, letting the engine die with a soft tick. She looked back at me, her eyes steady and resolute. "I didn't throw away my career, Eliza. I just resigned from working for a thief."
She reached into her purse and pulled out her own phone, sliding it across the center console toward me. The screen was already unlocked, displaying an open email draft addressed to Marcus Vance—my divorce attorney.
"Before I pulled into that garage tonight," Claire said quietly, "I forwarded every single metadata audit log from Travis's executive terminal directly to your lawyer's private server. By the time the markets open on Monday morning, the SEC and the family court will have simultaneous notifications regarding Northgate's hidden asset transfers."
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I looked down at the phone, then back up at Claire. The knot of fear that had sat tightly in my chest for the last two years finally, completely dissolved.
"Let's go inside," I said, opening the car door and stepping out into the cool, rain-washed night air. "We have a lot of paperwork to finish before morning."
