Marcus quickly opened his laptop. An emergency board meeting had been called for the following morning. The agenda? A vote of no confidence. Victor had invoked a rare clause in the company bylaws, claiming Marcus was mentally unfit and orchestrating a hostile witch hunt that was tanking the company’s stock.
And looking at the list of board members backing the motion, Marcus realized Victor had already bought out the majority. The trap was set, and the jaws were about to snap shut.
Marcus needed the one piece of evidence Victor couldn’t erase. He needed a witness.
That night, Marcus drove two hours outside the city, deep into a rundown industrial neighborhood. He parked his rental car outside a decaying auto-parts store. The rain was coming down in sheets as he walked inside, the bell above the door chiming weakly.
Behind the counter stood a man in his late forties, wiping grease off his hands with a dirty rag. His eyes were hollow, exhausted by years of defeat.
“Darius,” Marcus said.
The man stopped. He looked at Marcus, taking in the expensive coat and the familiar facial structure that mirrored the late Richard Vance.
“I don’t know who you are, mister, but we’re closed,” Darius muttered, turning his back to restock a shelf of oil filters.
“My name is Marcus Vance. I’m Richard’s son.”
Darius froze. A muscle feathered in his jaw, but he didn't turn around. “Your father is dead. And my life ended three years ago when his brother framed me. So unless you’re here to buy brake pads, get the hell out of my store.”
“I know Victor framed you,” Marcus said, his voice cutting through the hum of the old fluorescent lights. “I have the original ledgers. I have an auditor who’s willing to testify. But I need you. You know where Victor hid the transfer authorizations. You know where the bodies are buried.”
Darius finally turned, his eyes burning with a mix of rage and deep, unhealed grief. “Do you know what he took from me? I lost my house. My wife took my kids and moved to Seattle because she thought I was a thief. I’m a felon on paper. I can't even get a loan for a used car. You think walking back into Vanguard is going to fix that?”
“No,” Marcus said, stepping closer to the counter. “But tomorrow morning, Victor is staging a board coup to take total control of the company. If he wins, those ledgers disappear forever, and your name stays dirty for the rest of your life.”