Vance Black Phone Novels & Stories

I chuckled when I realized he must had lifted it from me earlier. He slid my phone across the table. "Now, it's a custom blackout device. Scrambles all signals within a two-mile radius. No one can trace your calls, record you, or listen in unless they're standing right next to you." I turned it over in my hand. "You're a genius." "I know." Vinnie smirked, leaning back. "Oh, and I took the liberty of picking out your screensaver." I clicked the button. A picture of half-naked beach models flashed across the screen.

But this one carried weight and urgency. “Damn Jer, Where did you keep your phone throughout yesterday?” he asked furiously. I cleared my throat and lied before I could overthink it. “Forgot it in my car.” Then I added a truth, “I was with Teyana.” His gaze narrowed knowingly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Can see you’ve gotten her back. Happy for you.” I nodded, then asked what had been on my mind since I stepped in, “Did Vance tell you anything?”

Lachlan Vance POV The clock read 4:15 AM. I moved through the room without turning on a single light, silent as I could make myself. In the bathroom, I ran the shower to a low, steady drizzle enough white noise to cover any sound and pulled a heavy black duffel bag out of the closet. In the false bottom, wrapped in a layer of signal-blocking mesh, was a prepaid phone. I kept it for the kind of acquisitions that never touched a paper trail a device with no link to the Vance network, and no link to Callan's surveillance.

“Vance.” He finally spoke. “That is possible.” Before she could respond, her phone vibrated. She looked down. Unknown number. She opened the message. Her face changed. Vance immediately noticed. “What?” She turned the phone toward him. STOP DIGGING. Vance’s jaw tightened. “Give me the phone.” Another message appeared. YOU DON’T KNOW WHO YOU’RE PLAYING WITH. Clara stared at the screen. Then another message arrived. TELL VANCE TO STOP. Vance’s eyes went cold.

The ivory and gold office of Sterling-Vance sat sixty stories above the smog of Lagos, a sanctuary of glass and steel. Mia Vance, now fifteen but carrying the cold, practiced gaze of a woman three times her age, stared at the black phone on her mahogany desk. The screen didn't show a number. It showed a symbol: a jagged circle with a needle through its heart. "The Bank never closes," the voice had said.

"Hmm. It must be confusing. Someone saw you sneaking off one night and reported you, I guess you don't have as many games as you like to think. Getting your phone was easy, you are very careless with those you consider beneath you." "Vance, please... I can explain." "I thought about it," he says, completely ignoring me. "Killing you immediately, that is. But I got a splendid idea. Have you tracked and then followed your contact to wherever he is keeping Catherine. I get her, you die." The shadow... oh no." "You look heartbroken. Good. You should be. Here is your phone," he says as he crushes it in his hand and drops the debris on my lap.

He unzipped it and pulled out a thick yellow envelope stamped with a red seal from the Municipal Zoning Office. "I was at the city hall early this morning to finalize the tax exemption forms for the grant," Callan said, his voice quiet and tight. "The clerk gave me this. It was filed late yesterday afternoon, right before the offices closed." Elowen’s chest tightened. "Filed by who? Richard Vance is in police custody. His assets are frozen." "Vance is done, yes," Callan replied, shaking his head. "But Vance wasn't working alone. His development firm had a silent financial partner. An offshore holding company called Blackwood Investments."

I didn’t trust myself to look back. She pulled me around the corner and into the narrow space between two news vans where the cameras couldn’t reach us. Rain had started coming down, thin and cold, and I hadn’t noticed until it was soaking through my jacket. “You have to leave,” Bianca said. Low and urgent, her eyes darting toward the building. “No.” I pulled my arm free. “There has to be something we can do. We’re not just going to let Dad go to jail for something he didn’t do—”

I asked. Vance opened his mouth to say something, but it snapped shut immediately. He fished out his phone, and as it lit up his face, I took in his facial features a lot more closely. He had dark eyes, so dark the light didn't reflect as much as it should have. "What the fuck?" he cursed under his breath, finally looking up at me like I'm a foreign object he wants to study. "How are you—" "What's so surprising about me and my mom?" I asked, getting irritated.

And they would not stop until everyone around them was burned down to the ground. The dark office was very quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the air conditioner on the wall. Evander held his black phone very tight in his hand. His thumb pressed the green call button. He put the phone to his ear and waited. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. "Come on, pick up," Evander whispered through his teeth, his eyes wide and wild. On the other end of the line, a heavy, tired grunt finally answered. "Yeah? What do you want now, Mr. Vance?" the private helper asked. His voice sounded like he had just woken up from a deep sleep. "It is still early. Did you forget what I told you last night? You are