Chapter 6 - The Unraveling Syndicate
By three o'clock in the morning, the corporate offices of Vance-Sterling & Associates had been converted into a war room.
Empty pizza boxes, stacks of architectural blueprints, and boxes of microfiche records seized from the city archives covered the long conference table. Julian Vance-Sterling, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbows, was barking orders into three different speakerphones simultaneously, coordinating with forensic accountants in Chicago and municipal investigators in Lansing.
Max stood over an aerial survey map of Detroit’s lower East Side.
"It’s not just Building 44," Julian said, slamming a file down onto the table. "Wells didn't just want the land for luxury apartments, Max. Look at the water rights."
Max leaned over the map. "What water rights?"
"The Vance Estate doesn't just own the surface acreage," Julian explained, tracing a blue highlighter along the southern perimeter of St. Aubin. "Under the 1908 riparian charter, the property includes perpetual access and drainage easements to the deep-water industrial channel of the Detroit River. Wells wasn't building condos; he was structuring a private commercial container port for a Canadian logistics conglomerate. He needed the Vance covenant crushed because the charter explicitly states the land can only be used for residential sanctuary and educational purposes."
Max stared at the map. "The library."
"Exactly," Julian said. "The old Carnegie library is part of the original trust endowment. If Margaret Vance died without an heir, the entire sixteen acres reverted to the state for immediate liquidation at public auction. Wells had already pre-bid eight cents on the dollar through four shell corporations registered in the Cayman Islands."
"And if Lily is recognized as the legal heir?" Max asked.
"Then the trust survives. The land cannot be sold, cannot be condemned for commercial logistics, and cannot be touched by Wells-Aegis. But Max... Wells knows this. He has known since this afternoon that Lily is the legal beneficiary."
A sudden, sickening cold struck Max’s gut.
He lunged for his coat. "Where are the security teams I ordered for the East Side?"
"I dispatched two cars to the storefront church on St. Aubin an hour ago," Julian said, his eyes widening in panic. "Why?"
"Wells isn't going to wait for the probate hearing," Max snarled, throwing his arms through the sleeves of his coat. "If the library burns tonight, the physical trust archives are destroyed. And if Lily is inside..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He bolted through the conference doors, leaving Julian shouting after him into the empty hallway.
May you like
Down on the street, the rain had turned into a thick, blinding sleet that coated the pavements in treacherous black ice. Max climbed behind the wheel of a heavy commercial Land Rover he had requisitioned from his company’s surveying fleet, slammed the transmission into gear, and roared into the frozen darkness, the tires screaming against the slush.
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