Chapter 8 - The Cold Boston Wind Sweeps Across The Cemetery
Back at the lonely graveyard, Victoria dialed her encrypted satellite phone with frantic, shivering fingers.
“Get the cleanup crew ready at the downtown office; the federal oversight team has our primary servers,” she barked.
A flat, robotic voice answered from the other end of the secure line, offering no comfort whatsoever.
“The cleanup crew was intercepted by federal marshals twenty minutes ago, ma'am. We’ve been compromised.”
Victoria dropped her phone into the wet mud, watching the cracked screen flicker and die in the pouring rain.
The Vance dynasty, built on decades of deceit, blood, and stolen fortunes, was finally crumbling into dust.
She looked toward the tall iron gates where Gabriel's car had vanished into the thick gray fog.
She knew that running was no longer an option, but surrender was completely against her nature.
Reaching into her trench coat pocket, she clutched a small brass key attached to a private offshore vault.
If she was going down, she would make sure she dragged Gabriel and the nameless maid down with her.
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The biting Boston wind howled through the bare tree branches, mocking her desperate, failing ambitions.
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