Chapter 2: The Trap is Sprung

Chapter 2: The Trap is Sprung

Two weeks passed in deliberate, weaponized silence. For Kaelen, it was an exercise in supreme discipline. He took other calls, closed other deals, and eviscerated other opponents in depositions, all while a quarter-billion-dollar time bomb ticked down to zero in the periphery. He never called Frank Mercer. He never sent a follow-up. He simply let the clock run out, giving the fool all the rope he needed to hang himself.

The call came precisely one day after the statute of limitations expired. It wasn't Frank, of course. Frank would be busy crafting his narrative of betrayal. The call was from a panicked senior paralegal in Aethelred Corp's legal department, her voice tight with a fear that was music to Kaelen’s ears.

“Mr. Vance,” she began, her words tumbling out in a rush. “We’ve just been contacted by Apex Indemnity’s counsel. They’ve… they’ve closed the file on the plant fire claim. They said the statute expired yesterday. They’re saying we have no further recourse.”

“I see,” Kaelen said, his voice a flatline of calm. He leaned back in his leather chair, gazing out at the midday sun glinting off the surrounding skyscrapers.

“Frank Mercer from finance is insisting he sent you the final authorization and documentation weeks ago!” the paralegal continued, her distress mounting. “He’s saying you dropped the ball. He’s forwarded an email chain to the entire executive committee, including Ms. Vance. Oh God, Mr. Vance, they’re looking for someone’s head.” She paused, then her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “The email… it’s being forwarded to you now. From Ms. Vance’s office.”

“Thank you,” Kaelen said, and disconnected.

Seconds later, the email arrived. The sender was Isla Vance, the new Head of Legal, the heiress apparent. The subject line was a single, cold word: Explain.

Attached was a forwarded chain, supposedly from Frank Mercer. Kaelen opened it with the detached curiosity of a surgeon examining a tumor. It was a clumsy, almost pathetic fabrication. A faked email, dated three weeks prior, from Frank to Kaelen.

Subject: URGENT - FINAL FILING DOCS - Apex Claim

Kael,

Attached is the final assessment report and my go-ahead to file the lawsuit. We need this filed ASAP. Don’t let this slip. Let me know you’ve got it.

Beneath it was an equally fraudulent reply, supposedly from Kaelen’s own account.

Got it, Frank. On it.

It was amateur hour. The font was slightly off. The time-stamp was a round number, a classic sign of manual creation. And the salutation, ‘Kael,’ was a fatal error. No one who worked with him in a professional capacity called him Kael. It was a name reserved for a very small, very exclusive circle that Franklin Mercer would never be invited into.

Mercer was a fool. He assumed that in the ensuing mushroom cloud of a quarter-billion-dollar screw-up, no one would look closely at the detonator. He had gravely underestimated his opponent.

Kaelen felt a thrill course through him, the cold, clean rush of a predator whose prey had not only walked into the trap but had also politely closed the door behind him. His desire wasn't just to be exonerated; it was to perform a public execution so flawless it would be spoken of for years.

His fingers began to move across the keyboard. This response would not be a simple denial. It would be a corporate kill shot, delivered with the precision of a sniper.

He clicked ‘Reply All’.

The recipient list was a roll call of Aethelred Corp’s power structure. The CEO, the CFO, the entire board of directors, and at the very top, Isla Vance. He was turning on the lights so everyone could watch the cockroach scurry.

He typed, his words measured and devoid of emotion.

Subject: RE: Explain

To the Board and Executive Committee of Aethelred Corp.,

I am in receipt of your email and the attached correspondence fabricated by Mr. Frank Mercer.

The assertion that I was instructed to file the lawsuit against Apex Indemnity is false. The email chain forwarded by Mr. Mercer is a forgery.

On October 17th, I advised Mr. Mercer via telephone that the statute of limitations was 14 days from expiring. I explicitly stated that without the final internal damage assessment report, we could not proceed. Mr. Mercer’s verbal instructions to me were to stand down, that he would ‘handle the timing,’ and to cease running up billable hours.

He paused, letting those words sink in for the imaginary audience he pictured reading them. Now, for the proof.

To memorialize this official legal advice and his instructions, I sent a follow-up email to Mr. Mercer immediately following our call. A copy of that email, which exists on Aethelred’s own mail servers and is timestamped October 17th, is attached to this message.

He attached the email he had sent to Frank and David Chen. The one he’d deleted from his own sent folder but knew any competent IT department could recover. He was saving them the trouble.

You will note Mr. Mercer was the primary recipient. You will also note I advised that failing to file would forfeit the $250,000,000 claim.

The trap was sprung. Now to slam it shut.

Furthermore, despite Mr. Mercer’s refusal to cooperate, I took the proactive step of obtaining the necessary document (AET-IDA-088) through his subordinate, David Chen, who is also copied on the attached, original email. A copy of the final report, with Mr. Chen’s cover email timestamped a mere five minutes after my initial request, is also attached.

He attached the PDF of the report and David Chen’s email. The evidence was now overwhelming. A clear warning. A direct order to stand down. A refusal by Mercer to cooperate. And proof that Kaelen had the document anyway, but was honouring his client’s—via their representative, Frank—instructions not to act.

He typed the final, devastating paragraph.

To be unequivocally clear: My firm was in possession of the necessary documentation but was under direct instruction from your appointed representative, Mr. Mercer, not to file. The catastrophic loss of the $250,000,000 claim is the direct and sole result of Mr. Mercer’s decisions and his subsequent attempt to conceal his gross negligence with falsified evidence.

I await your instructions on how you wish to proceed.

Sincerely,

Kaelen Vance

He read it over once. It was perfect. Cold. Factual. Undeniable. It didn’t just exonerate him; it crucified Frank Mercer with Mercer’s own lies, using Aethelred’s own data as the nails.

His cursor hovered over the ‘Send’ button. He thought of Isla Vance, the Ivy-League heiress in her sterile boardroom. She had sent him a one-word demand. She was about to receive a masterclass in corporate warfare. She had wanted an explanation. He was giving her an execution.

He clicked Send.

The email vanished into the digital ether. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. Kaelen could almost hear the sound of notifications pinging on two dozen high-end smartphones and laptops across the city. He could almost feel the shockwave spreading through the halls of Aethelred Tower.

The Vulture had struck. Now, he would wait to be summoned by the survivors.