Chapter 8 - The Counter-Move
“You’re working late, counselor,” I said, keeping my voice dangerously level as I paced across the narrow safehouse room, eyeing the barred windows.
“When you manage portfolios as large as mine, Commander, sleep is a luxury best reserved for people who don't have leverage,” Vance replied smoothly from the other end of the line. I could hear the faint clink of ice in a glass in the background. “Have you made your decision? Do you walk away and let your family keep their crumbling illusion of wealth, or do you board that transport tomorrow morning and pretend none of this ever happened?”
I stopped pacing, looking over at Toby, who was watching me with an intensity that mirrored my own tactical briefings.
“There’s a third option, Vance,” I said quietly.
A brief pause hung on the line before Vance let out a low, amused chuckle. “Oh? Do enlighten me. I wasn't aware military intelligence taught corporate restructuring in the field.”
“It doesn't,” I said. “But it teaches asset liquidation. The debt contract my parents signed isn't just tied to my military earnings; it’s registered under a federal defense subcontracting umbrella. Which means the moment an independent audit is triggered by the Department of Defense Inspector General—an audit I initiated before I left the high-rise an hour ago—every single offshore shell corporation your firm uses to funnel those funds becomes subject to immediate federal seizure.”
The ice clinking in Vance’s glass stopped abruptly. The silence on the line stretched out, thick and heavy, replacing his smug confidence with a sudden, sharp edge of tension.
“You’re bluffing,” Vance snapped, his professional veneer cracking just enough to let the panic bleed through. “You don't have the clearance to trigger a DOD IG audit on a private firm without going through three levels of command approval.”
“I didn't go through command approval,” I said, leaning down so my voice was right against the receiver. “I walked into Harrison’s private terminal and uploaded the unredacted trust trail directly into the active-duty whistleblower portal. It hits the Pentagon’s automated desk at 6:00 AM sharp. By noon, federal investigators won't just be looking at my parents’ estate—they’ll be tearing your law firm down to the concrete pilings.”
“You stupid, reckless—” Vance started, his voice rising in genuine fury.
I clicked the end call button before he could finish the sentence, cutting the connection completely.
Toby let out a breath that sounded half-laugh, half-gasp. “Did you actually do it?”
“I didn't have to,” I said, slipping the phone into my tactical pocket as I reached for my gear bag. “Harrison had the files ready to drop weeks ago. He just needed someone with enough leverage to pull the pin without blowing up the whole chain of command. Vance isn't going to spend the next four hours waiting for me to sign—he’s going to spend it scrubbing his servers before the federal marshals kick his doors in.”
“So what do we do now?” Toby asked, standing up from the cot, his posture losing its earlier hesitation.
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“We go pay our parents a visit,” I said, strapping my tactical harness securely across my chest. “Because before Vance cleans out his office, I’m going to make sure my parents understand exactly what kind of monster they invited into their lives.”
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