Chapter 5 - The Developer’s Counter-Strike
By Wednesday afternoon, Brenda’s arrest was the lead story on every local news station in Denver. Headlines blared: *JUDGE’S SISTER ARRESTED IN CONNECTION WITH CORPORATE BRIBERY SCHEME; FAMILY FEUD TURNS CRIMINAL.* Social media platforms were flooded with commentary, conspiracy theories, and intrusive paparazzi vans parked outside our apartment building in downtown Denver.
Preston spent the entire morning in his chambers managing an emergency docket while fielding calls from the Chief Judge of the district and the state attorney general’s office. I stayed locked inside our apartment, staring at the muted television screen as aerial shots of Brenda’s house played on a endless loop.
Then my phone rang. It was an unknown local number, but unlike the encrypted VoIP burner from the hospital, this one had a standard Denver area code.
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the screen, before pressing accept.
“Audrey Vance?” a smooth, cultured, entirely unfamiliar male voice asked.
“Who is this?” I demanded, gripping the phone tightly.
“Let’s just say I’m an interested party,” the man replied smoothly, his tone conversational, almost polite. “I represent the financial interests of Meridian Holdings—and by extension, the gentleman whose legal life your husband derailed last year.”
My blood ran cold. “Victor Vance-Smith.”
“Smart girl,” the voice chuckled softly. “You see, your husband is making a terrible mistake. He thinks arresting your sister is going to close the book on this little chapter. But all he’s done is back a desperate man into a corner. And desperate men, Mrs. Vance, tend to pull down the entire house when they fall.”
“If you or Vance-Smith touch my family again, Preston will ensure you spend the rest of your natural lives inside a maximum-security penitentiary,” I said, trying my best to channel my husband’s courtroom authority.
The man laughed—a cold, humorless sound. “Preston can’t protect you from what’s coming next, Audrey. We don't need to break into your house or hire your jealous sister anymore. We have something much more effective. We own the mortgages, the liens, and the debt notes on your father’s construction business.”
The phone went dead.
I dropped the handset onto the kitchen island, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. My father’s construction company—Hayes & Sons Construction—was his entire life. He had built that business from the ground up, working seventy-hour weeks with calloused hands and a stubborn, honest pride. If Meridian Holdings held the notes on his equipment loans and property liens, they could foreclose on him by the end of the week, wiping out forty years of hard work before he even knew what hit him.
I grabbed my bag, rushed down to the parking garage, and drove straight to the courthouse downtown without waiting for Preston’s permission.
When I burst into Preston’s chambers, he was standing over his desk talking to Marcus Vance. Both men stopped the moment they saw my pale, frantic face.
“Audrey? What is it?” Preston asked, rushing around the desk to steady me by the shoulders.
“It’s Dad,” I gasped, clutching his forearms. “They just called me. Meridian Holdings... they own the debt notes on Dad’s business. They’re going to foreclose. They’re going to destroy everything he built because of you.”
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Preston’s expression darkened into an abyss of pure fury. He looked at Marcus, who slowly shook his head.
“Vance-Smith isn't just playing defense,” Marcus said grimly. “He’s waging total war.”
