Jarrah's Advice

Kael

The door of the private holding room clicked shut with a sharp ring.

The high magistrate’s lawyer and the federal marshals had stepped out into the hallway to complete the clearance protocols but Banjo was no longer in the room. He had been practically dragged out moments earlier by his own frantic legal team after his phone blew up with urgent alerts from the Vance Enterprises emergency board.

I was not alone, though.

Standing near the corner of the room was Jarrah, he didn't look like a man whose conspirator had just been detained at the airport. His posture was as straight and immaculate as it had been during his thirty years of service to the Vance family. His face was a mask of perfect, icy calm, though a dark, calculating intelligence gleamed deep within his eyes.

"You played a dangerous card today, Miss Merinda," Jarrah said, his voice smooth, soft, and entirely devoid of his usual servant's deference.

I turned my head slowly, looking at him from where I sat from. "You're still here, Jarrah? I thought your chief associate was already being processed in the federal holding block."

A tiny, almost unseen smile touched Jarrah’s lips. "The man detained at the airport was merely a courier carrying outdated ledger copies, Miss Merinda. A temporary distraction. The federal prosecutors are far too slow to catch a wave that has already crossed the Atlantic."

My eyes narrowed slightly. "You planned for the high court injunction."

"I plan for every outcome," Jarrah replied smoothly, taking two slow, deliberate steps toward the table. "Which is why I stayed behind to give you one final piece of advice not as an enemy, but as someone who understood your late father very well."

I remained still, my jaw tight, my chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths. "I don't need advice from a snake who sold out my family."

"Your father was a proud man, Merinda," Jarrah said, his voice dropping into a low, whisper that seemed to absorb the cold air of the room. "He believed that honor and truth could stand up against pure, liquid capital and look where that pride put him. In a cold grave under five feet of dirt, while his creditors divided his life's work like stray dogs."

The sting of his words hit me straight in the chest, a sharp, terrible ache that threatened to shatter my composure. I gripped the edge of the table until my knuckles turned white.

Jarrah leaned down slightly, resting his fingertips on the back of the chair across from me. His eyes locked onto mine with an unsettling, intense focus.

"Banjo Vance is a blind fool," Jarrah whispered, his breath cold. "He thinks he is a king because he inherited a marble tower. He does not see that the foundation was hollowed out months ago. But you are smart. You have your father's sharp mind. Do not let your pride make the same mistake he did."

"What are you saying, Jarrah?" my voice tight.

"I am saying that Banjo’s legal team is outside right now preparing a secondary countersuit," Jarrah said softly. "The injunction your syndicate lawyer pulled today buys you twenty four hours of legal limbo. That is all. By tomorrow morning, Banjo will use his high level political connections in Bern to override the magistrate. He will freeze your family's syndicate assets under an international emergency sanction, and you will be transferred to a high security remand facility in Geneva before sunrise."

A heavy, suffocating weight settled over my heart. I knew he wasn't lying about Banjo's influence. The Vance family had fed the Swiss political machine for three generations.

Jarrah reached inside his inner coat pocket and pulled out a thin, folded document, setting it gently on the table right in front of me.

It was a revised version of the release agreement.

"Sign the document, Merinda," Jarrah whispered, his tone suddenly carrying a strange, almost human gravity. "Surrender St. Judes. Give Tahlia the land deed. Walk out of this building tonight as a free woman."

"Give up my mother's home?" I glared at him, pure hatred burning through my veins. "Give it to the woman who helped you destroy my father?"

"A dead hero owns no land," Jarrah said coldly, his eyes unwavering. "Surviving to fight another day is better than rotting in a foreign prison cell where no one can hear you scream. If you stay in this cage, Banjo will break you. Tahlia will take St. Judes anyway through foreclosure once your syndicate accounts are frozen. If you sign you walk away with your life. You keep your freedom and freedom is the only weapon you can use to build a fresh fire."

He stepped back, folding his hands behind his waist once more.

"The choice is yours," Jarrah added softly. "A martyr in chains, or a survivor in the shadows."

Silence fell over the room again thick, heavy, and suffocating.

I looked down at the white paper lying on the table. The words blurred slightly before my eyes as three years of humiliation, pain, and quiet suffering crashed over me like a freezing wave.

If I refused, I was betting everything on a legal battle against an empire that owned the very courtrooms we stood in. If I signed I lost my home, my name, and my father's last remaining piece of earth.

My hand trembled slightly as I slowly reached out, my fingers touching the plastic of the pen sitting beside the paper.

The door suddenly unlocked with a loud, violent CRACK.

A young constable burst into the room, his face red and sweating, his breathing ragged. He didn't even look at Jarrah. He looked straight at me, his hands shaking as he held up a secure police tablet.

"Miss Kael!" the constable gasped out, his voice cracking with panic. "You need to see this right now!"

I froze, my fingers hovering over the pen. "What happened?"

"The Zurich central vault" the constable stammered, holding the tablet out toward me. "An emergency override code was just entered using your private biometric signature fifty million dollars in physical bullion has just been moved out of the Vance master reserve."

Jarrah’s immaculate calm instantly shattered. His eyes widened in genuine, utter horror as he stared at the flashing red screen on the tablet.

"That's impossible," Jarrah breathed, his voice barely a sound. "She didn't have the vault keys"

The constable looked at me with wide, terrified eyes. "It wasn't sent to Lawson Global, Miss Kael. The wire transfer was signed in your name and sent directly to an offshore account registered under Tahlia's personal alias.”