Chapter Eighty-Six: The Fixer
Chapter Eighty-Six: The Fixer
The photograph lay in the center of the conference table like a loaded weapon.
No one spoke.
Not immediately.
Margaret Ellis stared at it as though she had seen a ghost.
Oliver finally broke the silence.
“Tell me his name.”
Margaret inhaled slowly.
“Victor Sloan.”
Marcus immediately typed the name into his laptop.
“Age?”
“I never knew.”
“What did Richard call him?”
Margaret’s lips trembled.
“He never called him anything.”
Oliver frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“He’d simply say…”
She swallowed.
“‘Victor will handle it.’”
The room grew colder.
Margaret continued.
“Whenever someone became a problem…”
“Victor appeared.”
Marcus looked up from his computer.
“There’s almost nothing on him.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow.
“Nothing?”
“Legally?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“No criminal record.”
“No employment history.”
“No property ownership.”
“No tax filings.”
“It’s like the man doesn’t exist.”
Oliver wasn’t surprised.
“If Richard trusted him to erase problems…”
“…he would’ve erased himself first.”
One of the FBI consultants spoke.
“People like Victor Sloan don’t disappear by accident.”
“They disappear professionally.”
Meanwhile…
Victor Sloan drove through the pouring rain in complete silence.
His left hand rested loosely on the steering wheel.
His right thumb traced an old scar across his knuckles.
Failure.
He hated failure.
His phone vibrated.
A single text.
MEET ME.
No location.
None was needed.
He already knew where to go.
Two hours later…
Victor parked outside an abandoned country estate.
The mansion had once belonged to the Haywood family decades ago.
Now…
Nature had almost reclaimed it.
Broken windows.
Cracked stone.
Overgrown gardens.
He entered through the side door.
The lights were already on.
The silver-haired man waited beside a fireplace.
His face remained hidden in the shadows.
“You disappointed me.”
Victor lowered his head.
“I underestimated Oliver.”
The older man smiled.
“So did Richard.”
Victor looked up.
“You knew Richard underestimated him?”
“I warned him.”
The man poured himself whiskey.
“He always believed Oliver was too honorable.”
He laughed softly.
“Turns out…”
“…honorable men are the hardest to defeat.”
Back in Maine…
Oliver couldn’t sleep.
He stood outside the cottage overlooking the ocean.
The waves crashed endlessly against the rocks.
Nuella called again.
This time…
He answered immediately.
“You should be resting.”
“So should you.”
He smiled faintly.
“I’ll sleep later.”
She hesitated.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
“Sophia.”
Oliver listened.
“She isn’t safe anymore.”
His expression changed.
“You think Victor knows about her?”
“I think…”
Nuella whispered,
“…if he’s eliminating witnesses…”
“…Sophia is next.”
Oliver’s stomach tightened.
He turned toward Marcus.
“We’re flying back tonight.”
New York City.
Sophia unlocked her apartment just before midnight.
She had spent the evening wandering the streets, hoping movement would quiet her thoughts.
Instead…
She felt watched.
Every reflection.
Every passing car.
Every stranger.
She shook it off.
“You’re imagining things.”
She entered her apartment.
Locked the door.
Turned on the lights.
Everything looked normal.
She exhaled.
Then noticed something.
One picture frame.
Crooked.
She frowned.
She never left it like that.
Slowly…
She approached.
Behind the frame…
A folded piece of paper.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
Only four words were written.
Some truths stay buried.
Sophia dropped the note.
Someone had been inside.
Her phone rang.
Nuella.
“Sophia?”
Her voice cracked immediately.
“Someone was here.”
Nuella stood from the sofa.
“What?”
“They left a message.”
“Don’t touch anything.”
“I’m calling Oliver.”
Forty minutes later…
Police officers flooded Sophia’s apartment.
Fingerprint teams worked every room.
Oliver arrived moments later.
He embraced Nuella first.
Then turned to Sophia.
“Are you alright?”
She nodded.
“Barely.”
Oliver examined the note.
No fingerprints.
No DNA.
Professional.
Marcus sighed.
“Victor.”
Oliver agreed.
“He wants us afraid.”
One detective approached.
“Mr. Haywood…”
“We found something.”
Everyone followed him.
Inside Sophia’s bedroom…
The window overlooking the fire escape was unlocked.
Fresh boot prints covered the sill.
Marcus crouched beside them.
“He wasn’t here to kill her.”
Oliver looked at him.
“What was he here for?”
Marcus answered quietly.
“To let us know he could.”
The psychological game had begun.
The next morning…
News of the attempted break-in never reached the media.
Oliver made sure of it.
The fewer people knew…
The safer Sophia remained.
Inside Haywood Global…
Emergency security measures were already underway.
Twenty-four-hour protection.
Secure transportation.
Restricted access.
Sophia protested.
“I don’t need bodyguards.”
Oliver looked at her seriously.
“Victor broke into your apartment.”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
“Because he wanted you frightened.”
He stepped closer.
“And frightened people make mistakes.”
Sophia couldn’t argue.
Across town…
Victor watched from inside a café.
Dark sunglasses.
New haircut.
Different clothes.
Completely unrecognizable.
He stirred his coffee absentmindedly.
Oliver’s convoy passed outside.
Victor smiled.
“So predictable.”
His phone buzzed again.
Another message.
Phase Two.
Nothing else.
Victor deleted it immediately.
Marcus spent the afternoon digging deeper into Richard Haywood’s finances.
Thousands of transactions.
Hundreds of shell companies.
Hidden accounts.
Then…
He found it.
A payment.
Nine years ago.
One million dollars.
Recipient:
V.S. Consulting.
Marcus leaned forward.
“There you are.”
He traced every payment afterward.
Every time Richard faced a scandal…
Another transfer appeared.
Different amounts.
Same recipient.
V.S. Consulting.
Victor Sloan.
Oliver entered the office.
“Find something?”
Marcus turned the monitor.
“I think we just found Victor’s salary.”
Oliver stared.
“One million?”
Marcus nodded.
“Just the first payment.”
He opened another file.
“There were twenty-three more.”
Oliver quickly calculated.
“Richard paid him over…”
Marcus finished.
“Thirty-eight million dollars.”
Silence.
Oliver whispered,
“My father wasn’t paying for loyalty.”
“He was paying for silence.”
That evening…
Margaret asked to speak with Oliver alone.
She looked more exhausted than ever.
“I remembered something.”
Oliver immediately sat beside her.
“What is it?”
“Victor once said something.”
“What?”
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to remember.
“He wasn’t speaking to me.”
“He was speaking to Richard.”
Oliver waited.
Margaret repeated the exact words.
“Every empire needs someone willing to clean the blood off the floor.”
Oliver felt sick.
Richard hadn’t flinched.
Instead…
According to Margaret…
He had smiled.
Later that night…
Marcus burst into Oliver’s office without knocking.
“You need to see this.”
Oliver followed him to the security room.
A live camera feed filled the monitor.
Haywood Global’s underground parking garage.
One of the security guards walked his usual patrol.
Everything appeared normal.
Until…
A black sedan rolled slowly into view.
Marcus zoomed in.
Victor Sloan stepped out.
He looked directly into the security camera.
Then…
He smiled.
Not nervously.
Not arrogantly.
Knowingly.
He reached into his coat.
Placed a small envelope beneath one of Oliver’s reserved parking spaces.
Then calmly walked away before security could reach him.
By the time officers searched the garage…
Victor had vanished.
Marcus carefully picked up the envelope with gloved hands.
No explosives.
No powder.
Just a single photograph inside.
Oliver took it.
His breath caught instantly.
It was an old family picture.
Him.
His mother.
Richard.
Taken when Oliver was only eight years old.
Across Richard Haywood’s face…
Someone had written three words in thick black ink.
HE WASN’T FIRST.
Oliver stared at the message.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
Marcus looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Oliver slowly lowered the photograph.
For the first time since this nightmare began…
He wasn’t thinking about forged marriages.
Or hidden witnesses.
Or Victor Sloan.
He was thinking about his father.
Because if those three words were true…
Then Richard Haywood had been hiding something far bigger than anyone had imagined.
And whatever it was…
Victor had just invited Oliver to uncover it.