Chapter 3 - The Glendale Asset Hunt
I didn't waste another second screaming at them.
I spun on my heel, grabbed my father's arm, and pulled him out the front door, leaving my suitcase sitting abandoned in the foyer. Susan and Heather yelled after us from the porch, their voices filled with a mixture of panic and triumphant malice, but I blocked them out completely.
"Dad, get in the car," I ordered, unlocking my luxury sedan with the remote.
My father scrambled into the passenger seat, his eyes wide with terror but also a faint glimmer of hope. I climbed into the driver's seat, slammed my hand against the push-start button, and tore out of the driveway, the tires screaming against the asphalt of our quiet Scottsdale street.
Glendale's private aviation and commercial industrial strip was roughly thirty-five minutes away via the Loop 101 highway. I pushed my car to its absolute limit, weaving through the afternoon traffic while my brain operated with the cold, calculated precision of an executive executing a hostile corporate takeover.
Kyle had always resented my success. For five years, he had dropped hints about wanting to buy into the packaging plant where he worked, to become a franchise owner instead of a mere supervisor. But his credit was entirely ruined from youthful debts, and I had repeatedly refused to co-sign a two-hundred-thousand-dollar commercial business loan because his business plan was an absolute disaster based on inflated margins and zero market research.
He hadn't just stolen my father's money to run away with another woman or gamble it away. He had done it out of a sick, twisted desire to prove he could be an executive just like me—by destroying the old man who had raised me.
"Chloe," my father whispered, gripping the door handle as I accelerated past a semi-truck. "I'm so sorry. I should have checked. I should have called your office. I was just so scared they were going to lock you away in a dark place."
"Don't you dare apologize to me, Dad," I said, my voice thick with unshed tears as I kept my eyes locked on the road. "You did what any loving father would do. You tried to save your child. Kyle used your love as a weapon against you. That is not your fault. But I promise you, before the sun goes down today, I am going to tear his life apart."
I pulled out my phone, pairing it to the car's Bluetooth system. I didn't call the police first. I called a number I had saved from my corporate compliance network—Marcus Vance, a high-ranking forensic investigator and retired federal agent who handled asset protection for my logistics firm.
"Chloe?" Marcus answered on the second ring, his tone professional and alert. "I thought you were still out of state."
"Marcus, I need an immediate emergency corporate freeze intervention," I said, my voice cutting through the car cabin like a blade. "My husband just obtained a three-hundred-thousand-dollar certified bank draft from my father via a fraudulent interstate wire scheme. He is currently at the Glendale commercial terminal attempting to execute a business franchise purchase under the name Beaumont Packaging or his personal name, Kyle Vance. The funds are stolen assets derived from elder fraud."
There was a brief pause on the line, followed by the rapid, rhythmic clacking of a computer keyboard.
"I'm pulling up the Glendale commercial registrar filings now," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a focused, clinical drone. "Yes. I see an active corporate transfer application uploaded forty-five minutes ago. Kyle Vance is listed as the primary investor for a commercial acquisition of a packaging logistics hub near the Glendale airport. The closing agent is an independent notary firm operating out of a private suite at the terminal building."
"Can you stop the wire clearance?" I demanded, my knuckles turning white on the steering wheel as the Glendale exit appeared ahead.
May you like
"If the bank draft is certified and physically handed over, the notary can legally stamp the closing deed, which automatically triggers the asset transfer," Marcus explained rapidly. "But because the underlying funds originated from an agricultural land lease liquidation in Nebraska, there is a federal twenty-four-hour standard holding verification protocol for out-of-state checks over fifty thousand dollars. He has the paper, Chloe, but the digital ledger hasn't finalized. If you can disrupt the physical signing of that deed, the transaction stalls, and I can file a formal emergency corporate asset injunction before the banks open tomorrow morning."
"I'm pulling into the airport parking lot right now," I said, slamming the brakes as I whipped the car into a secure corporate terminal space. "Keep the digital injunction ready, Marcus. I'm going in."
