Chapter 6 - THE TITAN IN THE SHADOWS
For two days, Alma wandered the city like a ghost.
She slept on a wooden bench in the central park, wrapping her wet coat tightly around her shivers. She tried to pawn her wedding ring, only to discover from a pawn shop owner that the twelve-carat diamond Marcos had given her was a synthetic cubic zirconia worth less than fifty dollars.
Everything in her life had been a lie.
On Thursday morning, her court-appointed lawyer met her at a public diner.
“It’s over, Alma,” the lawyer said, setting a massive stack of federal indictments on the Formica table. “The prosecutor’s office is pressing forward with maximum charges. Forty years in federal prison without parole.”
“Is there no way to prove Marcos forged my intent?” she begged, her voice hoarse and raw.
“There is only one way,” the lawyer said, leaning in. “The shell companies Marcos used were routed through a parent digital logistics server owned by a mega-conglomerate called Vanguard Global Holdings. Vanguard recently acquired all the digital databases of the regional trade market. If we can access the original, unedited digital ledger from Vanguard’s internal security server, it would prove that Marcos altered the signature timestamps after the fact.”
Alma’s eyes lit up with a sliver of desperate hope. “Where is Vanguard Holdings? Can we ask them for the files?”
The lawyer laughed grimly. “Vanguard Holdings is a multi-billion-dollar global supply chain titan. Their main headquarters is the sixty-story glass tower on Fifth Avenue. They don't talk to court-appointed public defenders, Alma. And they certainly won't open their private servers for a woman facing an eighty-million-dollar fraud conviction.”
“Who owns Vanguard?” Alma asked, her voice trembling. “Who is the CEO? I'll beg him! I'll fall on my knees in front of him! I'll do anything!”
The lawyer pulled a business journal out of his briefcase and turned it around on the table.
On the front cover was a photograph of a man standing in front of a fleet of silver cargo ships and high-tech distribution hubs.
He was wearing an Italian suit. His silver cuff links caught the light. His eyes were deep, serene, and filled with unquestionable authority. Beside him stood an elderly woman with silver hair bound in a lace scarf, smiling proudly.
The headline read:
JONATHAN VANCE: THE STREET VENDOR WHO BUILT A BILLION-DOLLAR AGRI-LOGISTICS EMPIRE.
Alma stared at the cover.
Her throat seized. Her eyes dilated until her vision blurred.
Jonathan.
Her Jonathan.
The man whose sweat she had mocked.
May you like
The man whose produce she had swept onto the floor.
The man she had told would never get up from the dirt.
