We walked back out to the main lobby of Arthur’s office, where the late afternoon sun was beginning to cast long shadows across the linoleum floor. The receptionist had already gone home for the day.
As I reached for the door handle, I noticed a white slip of paper protruding from the mail slot at the bottom of the heavy oak door.
I bent down and picked it up. It was not a letter, but a thick, textured corporate business card.
The name printed on the front in gold lettering was Caleb Vance, Vice President of Vance Development Group. On the back, someone had written a single sentence in black ink.
“Call me before the court does,” the note read, followed by a direct phone number.
I handed the card to Arthur, who polished his glasses again, his fingers moving faster this time.
“He knows I represent Julian,” Arthur said, his voice dropping. “He is trying to bypass the formal process.”
“How did he know we were here?” I asked, looking toward the glass entrance doors that led to the street
