They Thought I Was A Janitor, Until I Refinanced The Skyscraper And Evicted Them

Elena didn't get in. She stood, water dripping from her nose, wary of the shark in the suit. It was distinctively not Marcus, but Silas Vane, a corporate raider known for stripping assets faster than piranhas strips bone.

"I don't need a ride," Elena rasped.

"No, you need a probate attorney," Vane chuckled, lighting a cigar against the rain. "Marcus won. He outplayed you. But it’s a shame about the Legacy Clause in the original deed. Sloppy work by your grandfather."

Elena froze. "What clause?"

"The one that requires a biometric authorization from a blood heir to finalize any external transfer of the deed," Vane said, puffing smoke. "Of course, Marcus thinks he can bypass it with board approval. He's wrong. But he'll figure it out eventually."

He wasn't helping her; he was mocking her ignorance. He was gloating that the game was over because she hadn't known the rules of inheritance law.

"Why tell me?" she asked.

"Because watching Marcus fail to close the deal due to a technicality amuses me." The window rolled up. The car sped off into the night.

Elena stood rooted to the spot. Estate planning. Biometric authorization. She didn't need the bank representative. She just needed the tablet connected to the building's mainframe.

She looked up at the tower. The penthouse lights were blazing. Marcus was hosting his victory party.

The biometric master key was in the safe. And she knew exactly where the safe was.