Chapter 16 - The Counter-Strike on Fleet Street
The truth hit me with the weight of an avalanche.
Beatrice Vance wasn't trying to avenge an ancient family loss.
She was trying to bury evidence before the world discovered what her family had done.
By midnight, I was back on the top floor of the Savoy in London, overlooking the dark, glistening waters of the Thames.
Dominic had cracked the first encrypted flash drive from the Zurich vault.
It contained bank wires spanning two decades.
Beatrice’s late husband had embezzled tens of millions from British state shipping subsidies.
He had funneled the stolen capital into private offshore trusts, using Arthur Alden’s burgeoning logistics lines to disguise the flow.
When my father realized what was happening, he severed the partnership and bought the Kent estate at auction to preserve the physical ledgers.
Camden's marriage to me had only one true objective:
Gain executive clearance into Arthur Alden’s legacy vaults and destroy the paper trail before British regulators uncovered forty years of Vance fraud.
"Fleet Street just received an anonymous press release," Marcus reported, bursting into the Savoy suite at dawn.
"Beatrice’s publicists are alleging that Alden Global is defaulting on sovereign port contracts across Europe."
"The shares in New York are already down eight percent in pre-market trading."
I stood by the window, the morning sun painting my reflection in shades of gold and shadow.
"Did she think I fight with gossip?" I asked quietly, turning around.
"Marcus, release the Zurich flash drives to Scotland Yard’s Financial Crimes Unit."
"Send the complete ledger to the editors of the Financial Times, the Guardian, and the Wall Street Journal."
"Attach the original banking transfers signed by Beatrice Vance herself."
"What about the injunction hearing at High Court?" Marcus asked, his eyes wide.
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"I will attend that hearing personally," I said, buttoning the cuffs of my bespoke navy blazer.
"It is time to remind Lady Beatrice that a queen does not bow to a thief."
