Chapter 7 - The Forgotten Architect of Power
The next morning,
I met Marcus Thorne in a small,
unassuming coffee shop in South End.
It was the kind of place where people went to be invisible.
Marcus was waiting in the back booth,
wearing a hoodie and glasses.
He looked nothing like the heir to a multi-billion-dollar empire.
He looked like a man who was tired of being a footnote.
I sat down across from him.
He didn't say a word for a long time.
He just stared at me,
his eyes scanning my face for signs of the woman he used to know.
“You look well, Evelyn,”
he finally said.
“Considering.”
“Considering I’ve been eating prison food and sleeping on a cot for a thousand days?”
I asked,
lifting my coffee cup.
“I’ve had better vacations.”
Marcus leaned forward,
his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Why did you call me?”
“My father still thinks Michael Lane is the second coming of Christ.”
“He’s convinced that you were the problem.”
“He’s convinced that Michael saved the firm from your ‘unstable’ leadership.”
I set the cup down with a soft clack.
“Your father believes what Michael tells him because Michael is a very good storyteller.”
“But stories don't build buildings, Marcus.”
“And stories don't pay off debts.”
I reached into my bag and pulled out a folder.
It contained the evidence Julian and I had spent the night compiling.
“What is this?”
Marcus asked,
reaching for the folder.
“It’s the truth,”
I said.
“It’s proof that Michael has been skimming from the construction funds of the last three projects.”
“He’s been using the money to pay off the interest on the loans he took out to buy Rachel’s silence.”
Marcus frowned,
flipping through the pages.
“Buy her silence?
I thought they were in love.”
I felt a bitter twinge in my chest.
“They are in love with the life I built for them.”
“But Rachel is greedy, Marcus.”
“She knows where the bodies are buried.”
“And Michael has been paying her ‘consulting fees’ through a shell company to keep her from telling the SEC about the creative accounting.”
Marcus’s eyes widened as he saw the numbers.
“This is enough to trigger a federal audit,”
he whispered.
“This could destroy the company.”
“I don't want to destroy the company yet,”
I said,
my voice cold.
“I want to replace the leadership.”
“I want Michael out.”
“And I want you in.”
Marcus looked at me,
stunned.
“Me?”
“My father would never let me run Lane Group.”
“He will if the alternative is the total collapse of his investment,”
I countered.
“I’m going to give you the leverage to force your father’s hand.”
“But in exchange,
you’re going to give me something.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes.
“What?”
“I want the internal access codes to the Davenport bid server,”
I said.
“I want to see their numbers before they submit them.”
Marcus hesitated.
“That’s corporate espionage, Evelyn.”
“If you get caught,
you’ll go back.”
I leaned closer,
the scent of the coffee mingling with the iron-cold determination in my soul.
“I’ve already done my time, Marcus.”
“Now it’s their turn.”
“Are you in,
or are you just going to wait for your father to hand the keys to your inheritance over to Michael Lane?”
Marcus looked at the folder.
He looked at the proof of Michael’s betrayal.
Then he looked at me.
“He always did treat me like I was invisible,”
Marcus murmured.
“He’ll see you now,”
May you like
I promised.
“We’ll make sure he sees us both.”
