Chapter 5 - The Poison Pen
Gero Kranz did not handle confinement well.
Confined to his penthouse apartment in the Westend, wearing a black plastic ankle monitor that chafed against his skin, he pacing across the imported Italian marble floors like a caged tiger. The apartment was littered with empty bourbon bottles and takeout containers. The pristine order he once demanded had devolved into chaos.
His lawyer, Roland Voss, sat on the white leather sectional, scrolling through his tablet with a sour expression.
"The public relations campaign has failed, Gero," Voss said bluntly. "The leaked video on social media has over four million views. Women's rights organizations are protesting outside the firm’s headquarters every morning. Kranz & Vane’s senior partners met this afternoon. They’ve begun the formal process to strip your equity and expel you from the partnership."
"They can't do that!" Gero roared, smashing his crystal tumbler against the wall. It shattered into a hundred sparkling shards, splattering amber liquor across a framed modern painting. "I built their corporate litigation division! I made those bastards fifty million euros last year!"
"The public doesn't care about your billable hours, Gero," Voss said coldly. "They see a pregnant woman curled on the floor being whipped like an animal. And now, the prosecutor has expanded the charges. Clara Weitz and Julia Lindner have been subpoenaed. Their NDAs were ruled invalid by the superior court this morning."
Gero went rigid. The veins in his neck bulged, purple and thick. "Those ungrateful whores! I paid them! I bought their silence fair and square!"
"Well, your purchase expired," Voss said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. "Unless you have a miracle, you are looking at six to eight years in a federal penitentiary. The only way out of this is if Beate recants."
"She won't," Gero spat. "Her father has poisoned her against me. Thomas Brand... that dried-up old soldier thinks he can ruin me."
"Then you had better find a way to make her recant," Voss said, walking toward the private elevator. "Because if she takes that witness stand with her baby in her arms and that video playing on the projection screens, the jury will want to lynch you. You have two weeks until the preliminary hearing. Do something legal, or prepare your prison wardrobe."
The elevator doors closed, leaving Gero alone in the echoing silence of his penthouse.
He walked to the window, staring out toward the dark silhouette of the Taunus mountains in the distance. A venomous, irrational rage boiled in his blood. He had spent his entire life dominating others: his classmates, his colleagues, his women. He was Gero Kranz. He was born to rule, to shape the world to his desires.
He pulled a burner phone from his pocket—one not linked to his monitored accounts—and dialed a number he had received from a disreputable corporate investigator months ago.
"It’s Kranz," he whispered when the call connected. "The old man is holed up at his estate in Kronberg. I need you to bypass the perimeter. I don't care about the soldier. Just get me the girl. Bring her to my hunting lodge in the Spessart forest. She needs to sign a recantation letter, and she needs to do it tonight."
"The place is guarded, Mr. Kranz," a gruff voice replied. "Military veterans. It won't be clean."
"I don't care if it's clean!" Gero hissed, his eyes wild. "I have two million euros in an untraceable Swiss vault. Deliver Beate to me, and it’s yours. Fail, and don't bother coming back."
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He hung up, his hands shaking with psychotic anticipation. *You belong to me, Beate,* he thought, grinding his teeth. *You and my child. I will break you until you crawl back on your knees.*
***