Chapter 7 - THE GHOSTS OF WESTBRIDGE
While the Han family found peace in the quiet forests of Michigan, back in Chicago, the machinery of Westbridge Holdings continued to turn with relentless, clockwork precision.
In the executive boardroom on the fortieth floor of the downtown skyscraper, Marco sat at the head of the massive walnut table. Spread out before him were the quarterly audit reports, shipping manifests, and security briefs that kept the legitimate empire running smoothly while Daniel was away.
The heavy oak doors opened, and Sterling, the corporate attorney, stepped into the room, holding a thick legal binder under his arm.
“Is everything squared away with the federal prosecutors regarding the Vance indictment?” Marco asked without looking up from his tablet.
“ airtight,” Sterling replied, taking a seat across the table. “All digital trails linking Raymond Vance to the forged communications have been securely archived. The SEC and federal investigators are treating it strictly as an isolated case of corporate embezzlement and personal fraud. The Han family name remains entirely untainted.”
Marco nodded slowly, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. “And the syndicate factions in the South Side and Chinatown?”
“Quiet,” Sterling said with a slight, knowing smile. “Word got out about how quickly and decisively Mr. Han dismantled the internal threat. Nobody is foolish enough to test the boss right now. They know that beneath the billionaire philanthropist facade, Daniel Han is still the man who built this empire from the shadows.”
“Good,” Marco said, closing his tablet with a soft click. “Tell the security details across all regional offices to maintain standard protocols, but let everyone know the chairman is taking an extended personal leave. He’s earned it.”
Sterling stood up, gathering his papers. As he reached the door, he paused and looked back at Marco. “Do you think he’ll ever fully walk away from the underworld side of things, Marco? Or is it in the blood?”
Marco stared out the floor-to-ceiling window at the sprawling Chicago skyline below, watching the distant ant-like movement of traffic on the avenues.
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“You don't walk away from a legacy like that,” Marco said quietly. “You just learn to build walls high enough to protect the things that matter. And right now... the boss has the best walls he’s ever had.”
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