Chapter 4 - Unearthing the Graves
For five straight days, my team locked themselves inside the executive conference room of Mercer Global.
While my assistants analyzed the surface-level operational expenses, I personally dove into the deep, hidden layers of the company’s offshore banking networks.
Using back-door encryption keys provided by Arthur Vance’s legal connections, I bypassed Mercer’s primary firewalls. What I found was a terrifying web of systemic corruption.
Gerald hadn't just embezzled funds; he had built an illegal empire.
Over the past decade, Mercer Global had funneled over two hundred million dollars through shell accounts registered in the Cayman Islands and Liechtenstein. But deeper in the encrypted files, I uncovered a secure sub-folder titled Project Apex.
My breath hitched as I opened the files.
Project Apex was a list of real estate properties that had suffered catastrophic 'incidents'—fires, structural collapses, and equipment failures. Beside each property was an insurance payout column, followed by a secondary column labeled Disposal Fees.
I clicked on a sub-file dated seven years ago—the exact month I was attacked.
There it was. A transfer of fifty thousand dollars to a private security firm called Apex Solutions. The memo line read: Cleanup and Relocation Services - Oak Street Alley.
They had literally paid a private security contractor to transport my unconscious body across town and throw me behind that dumpster like trash. They had even kept a digital record of the transaction to write it off as a 'corporate operational expense.'
My hands shook against the keyboard. The sheer arrogance of Gerald Mercer was staggering. He was so confident in his untouchable status that he had cataloged his own crimes on his corporate servers.
"Miss Vance?" my senior assistant, David, knocked on the open glass door. "Are you alright? You look pale."
I instantly closed the window, locking the drive. "I'm fine, David. Did you finish verifying the third-quarter offshore tax credits?"
"Yes," David said, handing me a printout. "It's clean on the surface, but something doesn't add up with their primary concrete supplier. The invoices are fifty percent higher than market value."
"Because the concrete supplier is owned by Gerald’s brother," I said quietly, taking the paper. "It's how he launders the kickbacks."
David stared at me in awe. "How did you spot that so fast?"
"I know how this man thinks," I replied, standing up and straightening my jacket. "David, pack up the team's files. We have everything we need."
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"Are we submitting the report to the board?"
"Not yet," I said, a dark smile playing at the corners of my lips. "We are going to deliver it live... at Mrs. Mercer’s twentieth annual Charity Gala this Thursday."
