Chapter 10 - Cornering the Assistant
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The boutique coffee shop smelled of roasted espresso beans and expensive pastries. I sat in a secluded corner booth, sipping a black coffee, watching the glass doors.
At exactly 7:14 AM, Clare Mitchell walked in. She wore a sharp, tailored trench coat and carried a designer tote bag, looking entirely composed and professional. She ordered her drink at the counter, her eyes glued to her smartphone, managing Richard’s empire before the sun was fully up.
As she waited near the pickup counter, I slid out of my booth and walked up behind her.
“Good morning, Clare,” I said quietly, close to her ear.
Clare jumped, spinning around, nearly dropping her phone. When she saw me, the color completely drained from her perfectly contoured face. The annoyance she had displayed in the lobby days ago was instantly replaced by stark, undisguised panic.
“Victoria,” she stammered, taking a step backward. “What… what are you doing here? Richard isn't in the city.”
“I know,” I said, offering a cold, terrifyingly polite smile. “He’s in Connecticut with Evelyn and Leo. I’d love to chat with you for a moment. My booth is right over there.”
Clare looked wildly toward the exit, clearly calculating her chances of fleeing.
“If you walk out that door, Clare, my next stop is the Manhattan District Attorney’s office,” I whispered, my voice carrying zero emotion. “And I will hand them the unredacted files regarding Apex Horizon Holdings.”
Clare froze. Her breath hitched audibly. She knew the name. She was the one processing the invoices.
Without a word, she grabbed her latte and followed me to the corner booth, sliding into the seat opposite me like a condemned prisoner.
“You’re an accessory to multi-million dollar corporate fraud, Clare,” I began, stirring my coffee slowly. “You’ve been signing off on inflated vendor invoices to an LLC that funnels stolen corporate funds into an offshore trust in the Cayman Islands.”
“I just follow Mr. Vance’s orders,” Clare whispered, her hands shaking violently around her paper cup. “I don't ask questions. I’m just an assistant!”
“You are the gatekeeper to a felony,” I corrected her sharply. “And when the board of directors finds out, Richard will throw you under the bus to save himself. You will go to federal prison, Clare. Unless you do exactly what I tell you.”
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“What do you want?” she choked out, tears pooling in her eyes.
“I want the master authorization tokens for the Horizon Prime corporate accounts,” I said, leaning forward. “And I want the security bypass codes for Richard’s private server.”
