Chapter 5 - The Inside Enemy
I didn't take a cab back; I walked the entire twenty blocks, my mind racing in frantic circles. The threat about an internal mole within the Vance board wasn't just a psychological tactic—it recontextualized everything David had told me during our final, desperate week together.
When I unlocked the door to the studio apartment, the stale air hit me like a physical wall. I rushed to the Moses basket. My son was still sleeping peacefully, completely oblivious to the war being fought over his cradle.
I collapsed onto the edge of the narrow cot, pulling out my phone to dial a number I had memorized from David's private notebook—a number David had labeled simply: If I don't return, call Julian.
Julian Vance. Eleanor’s younger brother, David’s estranged uncle, who had been systematically pushed out of Vance Holdings a decade ago after a bitter public dispute over corporate ethics. For years, family lore painted him as the black sheep, an alcoholic washout living off a meager trust stipend in a rundown townhouse across town.
I pressed call, my thumb trembling against the screen.
It rang three times before a raspy, tired voice answered. "If this is another debt collector, I’ve already changed my number."
"It's not a debt collector, Uncle Julian," I said, my voice cracking slightly. "It's Maya."
A sharp intake of breath echoed on the other end of the line. The ambient noise of clinking glassware stopped immediately.
"Maya?" Julian’s voice dropped to an urgent whisper. "Where are you? Eleanor has half the private investigators in Boston looking for you and the child."
"I'm safe for now," I said, standing up and pacing the small room. "Marcus just met with me. He told me something that changes everything. He said David didn't get those encryption keys by himself."
Silence stretched on the other end of the line for so long I thought he had hung up. When Julian finally spoke, his voice was hollow, filled with a heavy, ancient dread.
"He didn't," Julian said softly. "I gave them to him."
I stopped pacing, the phone pressed hard against my ear. "You?"
"Yes," Julian said, a bitter sigh escaping his lips. "And I thought we were being careful. But Maya... you need to listen to me very carefully right now. Marcus isn't working for Eleanor anymore. He switched sides three days ago."
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"What are you talking about?"
"Marcus isn't Eleanor's fixer," Julian whispered, the floorboards creaking on his end as if he were frantically checking his windows. "He’s working for the person who actually ordered the hit on David—and they aren't looking for the ledgers. They're coming for the child because of what he legally inherits under a clause even Eleanor doesn't know about."
