Chapter 35: The Agency Hunt

The cold seeping through the thin soles of Elena's shoes was grounding, a sharp reminder that this nightmare had a temperature. Inside the lodge, the firelight cast dancing, distorted shadows against the glass—the silhouettes of a family reunited by a crime.

Elena slid down the rough bark of the pine tree, keeping her eyes on the window. She couldn't storm the lodge. Not with a kitchen knife against a gun. She needed leverage. She needed to know the mechanics of the cage Vane had built.

She pulled her main phone from her pocket. Away from the jammer in the manor, the signal bars flickered—one, then two.

She texted Marcus.

*I found them. North Ridge Lodge. I need the ownership records for 'The Thorne Agency.' Now.*

She waited, her breath pluming in the icy air. The phone buzzed three minutes later.

*On it. Give me five.*

Elena risked another glance at the window. Julian was still tied to the chair, but his posture had slumped. He wasn't looking at Vane anymore. He was looking at Valerie. The woman was stroking his hair, her lips moving in a silent, frantic rhythm. It looked like an apology. It looked like a confession.

The phone buzzed again. Marcus.

*It’s a ghost, Elena. The Thorne Agency wasn't licensed as a PI firm. It was registered as a logistics consultancy.*

Elena typed back, her fingers stiff with cold. *Logistics?*

*Import/Export,* Marcus replied. *Registered in 1982. Dissolved in 1990. The same year Julian’s 'probation' period ended in the ledger.*

Elena stared at the screen. Import/Export. They weren't moving goods. They were moving children.

*Who owned it?* she typed. *Thomas Thorne?*

A pause. The dots danced on the screen.

*No,* Marcus sent back. *Thorne was just the registered agent. The operating officer listed on the dissolution paperwork is a holding company called 'Veritas LLC.'*

*Dig deeper,* Elena commanded. *Who owned Veritas?*

She watched Vane inside the cabin. He stood up and poured a drink. He looked relaxed, almost bored. This wasn't a crisis for him. It was a board meeting.

The phone buzzed. A picture message appeared. A screenshot of a microfiche document, grainy and black-and-white.

It was the articles of dissolution for Veritas LLC.

Elena zoomed in on the signature at the bottom.

It wasn't Thomas Thorne. It wasn't Constance Hawthorne.

It was a signature she had seen on thousands of checks, wills, and contracts. A signature that had authorized her son’s rehab and frozen her bank accounts.

*Silas Vane.*

Marcus’s text followed a second later.

*He didn't just hire the fixers, Elena. He owned the company. He built the network.*

The phone almost slipped from her numb fingers.

Beatrice had been wrong. Vane wasn't just a lawyer cleaning up a mess for a wealthy client. He wasn't just an opportunist seizing a moment of grief.

He was the architect.

He had created an agency specifically to traffic his own illegitimate children into wealthy families who needed heirs. The Hawthorne estate wasn't his only project; it was just his most successful one.

Elena looked back at the window. At the man sipping scotch while his son sat bound in front of him.

He hadn't saved Julian from poverty. He had bred him for profit.

Vane wasn't just the family lawyer. He was the trafficker.