CHAPTER 5 - POWER AGAINST JUSTICE
1060 Words
A storm rolled across Manhattan before sunrise.
Lightning illuminated the skyline as Bentley Monroe stood outside his father's office.
Harold's words from the previous evening echoed relentlessly in his mind.
"Once you know what's inside... there's no turning back."
Bentley knocked.
"Come in."
Harold was already awake.
A steaming cup of black coffee rested beside an old leather file on his desk.
The file looked worn with age.
As though it had survived decades waiting for this very morning.
Harold motioned toward the chair.
"You came."
"You knew I would."
"I hoped you wouldn't."
Bentley sat.
The room fell silent.
Harold rested one hand on the faded file.
Then finally opened it.
The first page contained a newspaper clipping.
THE NEW YORK HERALD
YOUNG ATTORNEY HUMILIATES BILLIONAIRE LUCAS MONTIEL IN COURT
The photograph showed a much younger Harold Monroe leaving a courthouse.
Reporters surrounded him.
Behind them...
Lucas Montiel stood beside a black limousine.
His face was expressionless.
Harold slid the newspaper toward Bentley.
"I was thirty-three."
"I had just opened Monroe & Associates."
Bentley looked up.
"You defeated Lucas."
Harold nodded slowly.
"Yes."
"But I also embarrassed him."
Harold walked to the window.
Rain streaked across the glass.
"Lucas wasn't an ordinary businessman."
"He understood one thing better than anyone."
"Power."
"He believed enough money could buy anything."
"Judges."
"Politicians."
"Silence."
Harold turned. "The problem was..."
"...he couldn't buy me."
Bentley leaned forward.
"What was the case about?"
Harold smiled faintly.
"Everyone thought it was about shipping contracts."
"It wasn't." "It was about ownership."
"Lucas had quietly forced several independent shipping companies into impossible agreements."
"When they refused to surrender their businesses..."
"They disappeared."
Bentley's eyes narrowed.
"The owners?"
"No."
"The evidence."
Harold paused.
"Every contract vanished."
"Every witness suddenly remembered nothing."
"Every investigator found another explanation."
Bentley frowned.
"So how did you win?"
Harold's smile returned.
"I found one document."
"One."
"It proved Lucas had falsified a merger."
Bentley looked back at the newspaper.
"That single document defeated him?"
"It cost him over a billion dollars.”
Harold's expression darkened.
"But that's not the part history remembers."
He opened another folder.
Inside...
Photographs.
A burned-out luxury sedan.
Police tape.
Firefighters.
Bentley looked up.
"The explosion."
Harold nodded.
"The morning after the verdict."
"My car."
"You were supposed to be inside."
"I usually left home at exactly eight."
"What changed?"
Harold's face softened.
"Your mother."
Bentley blinked.
"My mother?"
"She forgot her wedding ring."
Harold smiled sadly.
"She called me back inside."
"I left five minutes later."
He looked down at the photograph.
"My car exploded exactly on schedule."
Silence settled over the office.
Bentley stared at the image.
"You believe Lucas ordered it."
Harold answered carefully.
"I believe powerful men rarely dirty their own hands."
Bentley's voice lowered.
"Did you ever confront him?"
Harold laughed quietly.
"Oh, I did."
Twenty-Nine Years Earlier
Rain poured over the courthouse steps.
Lucas Montiel stood beside his chauffeur as Harold approached.
Neither man spoke for several seconds.
Lucas broke the silence.
"You've made yourself famous today."
Harold replied,
"I was only doing my job."
Lucas smiled.
"No."
"You were making a mistake."
Harold folded the judgment papers beneath his arm.
"The court has already spoken."
Lucas stepped closer.
"Courtrooms give verdicts."
His voice became almost gentle.
"Men like me..."
"...write history."
Harold didn't move.
"Then history will remember that you lost."
Lucas looked at him for a long moment.
Then smiled.
"We'll see.”
Harold closed the file.
"I never saw Lucas again."
"He died years later."
Bentley remained quiet.
Trying to absorb everything.
Finally he asked,
"So where does Jacob fit into all this?"
Harold walked toward another cabinet.
Unlike the old file...
This one looked untouched.
Almost new.
He placed it on the desk.
Across the cover...
Only two words were written.
JACOB MONTIEL
Bentley frowned.
"You investigated him?"
Harold nodded.
"For years."
"But something never made sense."
He opened the folder.
Inside were newspaper articles praising Jacob.
YOUNGEST CEO IN COMPANY HISTORY
MONTIEL FOUNDATION DONATES $50 MILLION TO CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL
JACOB MONTIEL NAMED BUSINESS LEADER OF THE YEAR
Bentley looked confused.
"These are all positive."
"Exactly."
Harold tapped the stack.
"Too positive."
He lowered his voice.
"I've spent twenty years looking for one piece of evidence."
"What evidence?"
"Proof."
"Proof of what?"
Harold's eyes locked onto his son's.
"That Jacob isn't continuing his father's empire."
A long pause.
"He's building his own."
At that same moment...
Deep beneath Montiel Global Holdings...
Jacob entered the underground operations center.
The room fell silent.
Marcus Kane, his chief financial strategist, approached with a tablet.
"Our Singapore transfer has cleared."
"No complications?"
"None."
Jacob nodded.
"What about Monroe?"
Marcus tapped the screen.
"Harold opened the Lucas file this morning."
Jacob's expression remained unreadable.
"So."
"The old man finally decided to tell bedtime stories."
Marcus hesitated.
"Should we erase the remaining records?"
Jacob looked toward a wall of surveillance monitors.
One screen showed Harold's office.
Another showed Bentley leaving the building.
A third showed Dilva sketching alone by the ocean.
Jacob folded his hands behind his back.
"No."
Marcus frowned.
"Sir?"
Jacob smiled faintly.
"Every great trial begins with evidence."
He turned toward Marcus.
"I intend to decide..."
"...which evidence survives."
That evening...
Bentley returned to his apartment carrying both files.
One labeled:
LUCAS MONTIEL
The other...
JACOB MONTIEL
He placed them on his dining table.
Before opening either one...
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered cautiously.
"This is Bentley."
A familiar voice answered.
"Good evening, Counselor."
Bentley immediately recognized it.
Jacob Montiel.
"I've been expecting your call."
Jacob chuckled softly.
"Have you?"
"I had a feeling."
"Then perhaps your instincts are improving."
Silence.
Jacob spoke again.
"I'm calling for one reason."
Bentley waited.
Jacob's voice remained calm.
"If you wish to represent my wife..."
"...do so."
Bentley's eyebrows lifted.
"I don't need your permission."
"No."
"You don't."
Another pause.
"But I do have one request."
Bentley said nothing.
Jacob's next words were almost polite.
"When this case is over..."
"...I hope you still recognize the man staring back at you in the mirror."
The line went dead.
Bentley slowly lowered the phone.
Outside...
Thunder rolled across the city once again.
Somewhere in Manhattan...
Two men had just spoken for the first time.
Neither had raised his voice.
Neither had made an obvious threat.
Yet both understood exactly what had begun.
A war.
- Writer
