Chapter 8 - The Sting at the Apex Gala
Forty-eight hours later, the annual Great Lakes Logistics Leadership Summit was held at the Grand Hyatt Ballroom downtown.
It was Maribel Kane's crowning moment. Despite the private chaos of the past two days, she was scheduled to receive the "Pioneer of the Year" award for her rapid expansion of Apex Global’s industrial footprint. She had surrounded herself with private security, high-priced PR flippers, and state industry commissioners.
She believed she had neutralized Damian. She believed I was cowering at home, terrified of her legal threats.
She was wrong.
The ballroom was a sea of black-tie attire, clinking crystal, and ambient jazz. Maribel stood near the VIP stage in a shimmering sapphire gown, sipping champagne and laughing with two state environmental regulators.
"To innovation and efficiency," one of the board members toasted.
"To safety and progress," Maribel purred, raising her flute.
"Excuse me, Ms. Kane."
Maribel turned, her smile freezing instantly.
I walked through the crowd wearing an elegant, midnight-black gown. Behind me walked Marcus Vance, holding a federal subpoena envelope, and flanked by two uniformed investigators from the State Fire Marshal’s Special Investigations Unit.
And beside Marcus stood Damian.
Damian’s jaw was set. He was pale, but his shoulders were straight, and in his hands, he carried a hard drive sealed in an evidence bag.
"What is the meaning of this?" Maribel hissed, her security guard immediately stepping forward. "Remove them! This is a private corporate gala!"
"Stand down, son," Marcus Vance growled, flashing a gold badge that still commanded absolute authority in the tri-state area. "State regulatory warrant. Keep your hands where we can see them."
The ballroom went dead silent. The jazz band faltered, the brass instruments trailing off into awkward discord.
"Iris," Maribel spat, her eyes darting toward the exits. "You are violating a civil cease-and-desist!"
"There is no cease-and-desist for criminal conspiracy, Maribel," I said, stepping into the center of the illuminated floor. My voice echoed off the gilded ceiling, clear and unwavering. "Seven years ago, you hid behind your father’s money when my brother Logan died behind padlocked doors. You thought you could erase his name by changing yours."
"Get out of here!" she screamed, losing control. "Damian signed those permits! He is the one who falsified the Marion County hazard ratings!"
"Actually, Maribel," Damian spoke up, his voice ringing with a strength he hadn't possessed two days ago. "I didn't."
He held up the digital audit log.
May you like
"At 11:38 PM on Tuesday night, my home IP address was logged in our living room. But the digital certificate on that safety waiver was signed from your penthouse IP address using my administrative bypass code. We recovered the keystroke logs and the automated backup before you purged the Apex server."
***