Chapter 84: The Last Loose Thread
The first claim arrived before Robert’s aircraft left the runway.
The second landed eleven minutes later.
By lunchtime, seventeen separate filings had appeared across civil courts, commercial tribunals, and regulatory panels, each accusing Alden Systems of something slightly different and equally expensive to defend.
Patent concealment.
Improper disclosure.
Market interference.
Breach of fiduciary duty.
The strategy was obvious, and it had been designed for headlines as much as hearings.
If Robert could not stop Chloe with one accusation, his barrister would bury her beneath paperwork until the company lost momentum, investors lost patience, and every victory became a legal invoice.
Chloe read the filing index in the London boardroom while rain moved across the windows in thin grey sheets.
“He wants us answering seventeen fires,” the legal director said.
“No,” Chloe replied. “He wants us tired enough to miss the person carrying the matches.”
Leo stood beside the screen, watching the claim numbers multiply.
Mark’s former barrister had signed each filing through a web of firms, consultants, and professional representatives who were careful never to use his name twice.
He had learned from Mark’s collapse, from Victor’s arrest, and from the speed with which respectable allies vanished when documents became public.
Not enough.
Chloe turned to the junior solicitor at the end of the table.
“Who built these submissions?”
The solicitor hesitated. “His chambers did. But the formatting is consistent with one internal team.”
“Find the person he fired most recently.”
The answer came within an hour.
Her name was Laura Bennett, a former legal assistant dismissed three days earlier after refusing to backdate a witness statement.
She arrived at the townhouse carrying one laptop, two storage drives, and the exhausted fury of someone who had finally understood why loyalty had never protected her.
“I kept copies,” Laura said. “Not because I wanted leverage. Because I knew he would blame the forgery on whoever typed it. He always needed someone lower down the corridor to carry the risk.”
Chloe opened the first folder.
Internal strategy notes filled the screen.
Template affidavits.
Recycled witness statements.
Instructions to file in overlapping jurisdictions, force emergency hearings, and create the appearance of a legal crisis before judges had time to compare documents.
One email was worse.
It directed Laura to alter the date on a supporting letter and attribute it to a client who had never signed anything.
Leo read the message once.
“That ends his career.”
“It ends more than that,” Chloe said.
By four o’clock, Alden Systems’ legal team filed a consolidated response with every court involved.
The applications requested coordinated review, immediate dismissal of the duplicated claims, sanctions for abusive proceedings, and referral of the altered documents to the professional conduct authority.
Laura signed a sworn statement.
The metadata signed the rest, preserving timestamps, edit histories, and the device identifiers his chambers had been careless enough to leave behind.
At 4:36, the first judge struck out three filings.
At 4:51, a second tribunal suspended five more.
By 5:20, the remaining claims collapsed under the same internal documents that had been designed to exhaust Chloe.
The barrister’s practising certificate was suspended pending investigation before the evening news began.
His attempt to create seventeen battles had produced one clean defeat, visible to every investor he had hoped to frighten before the next market open.
Chloe closed the laptop.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
Leo handed her a message from the estate manager.
Three removal lorries had arrived at Victor’s former manor, followed by restoration crews, gardeners, and a delivery van carrying furniture wrapped in protective blankets.
Ethan had already sent the renovation plan.
Chloe looked at the photograph attached to the message.
For the first time, the gates stood open.
Tomorrow, her father was going home.