Chapter 9 - The Shadow of the Past
While Vance Analytics expanded across three continents, the remnants of the Bennett name continued to dissolve into quiet obscurity.
Three months after his sentencing, Andrew Bennett sat in a small visitor’s room at the Westchester facility. The room smelled of industrial floor wax and cheap coffee.
Across the formica table sat Evelyn Carlisle.
She wore a dark trench coat and sunglasses, looking entirely out of place against the cinder-block walls.
“Why did you come, Evelyn?” Andrew asked, his voice rasping. His hand pressed flat against the table; he had lost more weight, his cheeks sunken, his hair shaved short to conform to facility rules.
“My father wanted me to deliver a message personally,” Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a low whisper so the guards near the door wouldn't hear. “The Vance Group just bought out our hotel holding firm’s debt, Andrew.”
Andrew let out a bitter, dry laugh. “Arthur Vance doesn't stop, does he?”
“It isn't Arthur,” Evelyn said, taking off her sunglasses to reveal dark circles beneath her eyes. “It’s Claire. She personally directed the acquisition. She offered my father two choices: sell thirty percent of the Carlisle Hotel stock to Vance Group at a forty percent discount, or watch every tax credit my father claimed over the last six years undergo a federal forensic audit.”
Andrew stared at her, a strange, terrifying mix of awe and horror filling his chest.
“She’s better at this than I ever was,” Andrew whispered softly. “She always was. I just thought... I thought because she didn't yell, she didn't have teeth.”
“She stripped my father’s company in three weeks, Andrew,” Evelyn said, her voice shaking slightly with genuine fear. “She didn't raise her voice once. She sat in a boardroom at 1 Vance Plaza, laid out twelve years of spreadsheet discrepancies, and gave him twenty minutes to sign the transfer.”
Evelyn stood up, pulling her gloves back on.
“I came here to tell you to never contact me again when you get out,” Evelyn said coldly. “Because as long as your name is attached to anyone in this city, Claire Vance will keep hunting.”
May you like
She turned and walked out of the visitor’s room, her heels clicking sharply against the linoleum.
Andrew sat alone at the table for a long time, looking down at his rough, unwashed hands, realizing finally that the girl he had pushed onto the rain-soaked sidewalk outside the Marlowe had not just survived—she had become the sky above his head, cold, vast, and completely unreachable.
