Chapter 5 - THE LION’S DEN
The next morning, Grant arrived with a smug look on his face. He sat down, waiting for the medication to take its effect, his eyes tracking Nathan’s every twitch.
“You look a bit pale today, Nathan,” Grant said, leaning forward. “Maybe we should increase the dosage.”
Nathan gripped the arms of his chair, fighting the urge to stand up and throttle the life out of him. “I’m fine, Grant. Just... thinking.”
“About what?”
“About how much I’ve missed out on,” Nathan said, his voice flat. “About everything I lost.”
Grant smiled, a cold, predatory look. “It happens. We all lose things. But some of us are better at moving on than others.”
Nathan held his breath. “I’m ready to sign the papers to transfer the remainder of the assets, Grant. Everything. The warehouses, the trucking routes, the shell companies. I want it all off my plate. I want to retire.”
Grant’s eyes lit up. This was it—the final coup. “That’s a wise decision, Nathan. A very wise decision.”
He pulled a thick stack of documents from his briefcase and laid them on the table. “Just sign these, and it will all be handled.”
Nathan reached for the pen, his heart beating a frantic rhythm. He wasn't signing away his assets; he was signing a confession for Grant. He had swapped the top page with a document that contained all the evidence Hannah had retrieved, hidden behind a thin veneer of corporate legalese that would trigger an automatic filing with the District Attorney’s office the moment it was scanned into the system.
As Nathan signed, Grant’s attention was entirely on the pages, his hunger for power making him blind to the trap.
“Done,” Nathan said, sliding the folder back.
Grant checked the signature, satisfied. “I’ll have my team process this immediately.”
“Wait,” Nathan said. “Before you go, there’s one more thing.”
Grant looked up, irritated. “What now?”
“I found something,” Nathan said, his voice echoing in the sudden silence of the room. “In my old ledger.”
He held up the book Hannah had found. Grant’s face went white. The color didn't just leave his skin; it vanished as if he were a ghost.
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“Where did you get that?” Grant hissed, his hand reaching for the holster inside his jacket.
“It doesn't matter,” Nathan said, his hand sliding to the drawer where he kept a small, emergency sidearm. “What matters is that it’s over, Grant.”
