Chapter 3 - The Call to ArmsI lifted Arianne into my arms, carried her down the marble staircase, and laid her gently on the bench seat of my pickup truck before dialing 911.
While the sirens wailed in the distance, Derek and Bertha stood on the porch under the mansion’s warm entry lights, watching me with expressions of utter disdain. They looked at my grease-stained jacket and battered truck like I was a pathetic nuisance who had wandered into their high-society world.
Derek actually smirked, crossing his arms. Bertha shook her head in disgust.
They thought I was just Baldric the retired mechanic—a poor, uneducated man with calloused hands and oil beneath his fingernails. For years, I had let the world believe that narrative. I wanted whoever married my daughter to love her for who she was, not for the massive fortune attached to her name.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my secondary encrypted phone. I dialed a private number.
My attorney, Arthur Pendelton, answered on the third ring, his voice heavy with sleep. "Baldric?"
"Wake up the legal team, Arthur," I said, staring directly at Derek under the mansion lights.
Arthur’s voice instantly sharpened. "What happened?"
"Activate every emergency provision in every holding company and trust connected to the Vance Group," I ordered softly.
A long pause hung on the line. "All of them, sir?"
"All of them. Freeze their credit, pull our supply contracts, and terminate their commercial leases. I want them bankrupt by the end of the week."
Derek laughed aloud from the porch, hearing the tone of my voice. Bertha smiled sneeringly. They still thought I was bluffing.
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They had no idea that behind my humble mechanics shop lay Apex Logistics—the single largest transportation, warehousing, and trade network in the entire state. Through private trusts, I controlled ninety percent of the infrastructure the Vance family’s manufacturing empire relied on to survive.
"Consider it done, Mr. Thorne," Arthur replied. "The offensive begins now."
