Chapter 3

Before storming the gates of Arthur Vance's gallery, I decided to try one last official channel. It felt like the responsible thing to do, the last box to check before going nuclear. I filed a formal complaint against Mark Davis with the State Real Estate Commission.

I spent a whole morning filling out forms, attaching copies of my original plans and the fraudulent ones, and writing a detailed account of his sabotage and refusal to communicate. I sent it all through their online portal and requested an expedited review due to the ongoing financial damages.

Two days later, a man named Mr. Henderson from the commission called me. His voice was weary, bureaucratic.

"Ms. Chen, I've reviewed your complaint regarding Mr. Davis."

"Yes," I said, a sliver of hope rising. "It's a clear case of fraud and professional misconduct."

"Well," he began, and I could hear the 'but' coming from a mile away. "It's a very serious accusation. Mr. Davis is a licensed agent in good standing. You're claiming he intentionally swapped your architectural plans?"

"He admitted it to me on the phone. He said he was making 'practical tweaks.'"

"And you have a recording of this call?"

"No," I admitted. "I was in shock. I didn't think to record it."

Mr. Henderson sighed. "So it becomes a 'he said, she said' situation. He will deny it, of course. He'll say this is a case of a messy breakup, that you're a disgruntled ex-girlfriend trying to ruin his career."

My stomach tightened. That was exactly what Mark would do.

"I have the plans," I insisted. "The originals and the fakes. His digital signature is on the fakes."

"He could claim you fabricated that. That you're the one altering documents. Ms. Chen, these things can get very messy. A full investigation would take months, maybe even a year. In the meantime, you'd be racking up legal fees. My advice? Try to work this out with him privately."

"Work it out?" I was incredulous. "He sabotaged my project, is costing me thousands of dollars a day, and refuses to speak to me. What is there to 'work out'?"

"Sometimes a compromise is the best solution for everyone," Mr. Henderson said smoothly. "Perhaps you could offer to compensate him for his 'consultation services' in exchange for him submitting the correct plans. It would be cheaper in the long run."

I felt a surge of hot anger. He wanted me to pay off the man who was destroying me. He was trying to sweep this under the rug, to close a difficult case with the least amount of paperwork. He was trying to make me the one who had to compromise.

"Let me be perfectly clear, Mr. Henderson," I said, my voice shaking with fury. "I will not pay my extortionist. I will not compromise on fraud. Mark Davis committed a crime, and he is wrecking my career. Are you telling me the Commission that is supposed to regulate people like him is advising me to just give up and pay him off?"

"I'm just advising you on the most practical path forward, ma'am," he said, his tone defensive now.

"Your 'practical path' is unjust. It's lazy. And it protects the criminal. Thank you for clarifying the Commission's position. You've been of no help at all."

I hung up before he could reply, my hand trembling.

The conversation, as infuriating as it was, gave me a dark kind of clarity. The system wasn't going to save me. The official channels were a swamp of bureaucracy and indifference. They saw a messy personal dispute, not a professional crime. They saw a woman scorned, not a professional being sabotaged.

I was on my own.

My resolve hardened into something cold and sharp. The gallery opening was no longer a desperate long shot. It was my only shot. My plan to confront Arthur Vance was no longer just about seeking his help. It was about seeking justice, by any means necessary.

I looked at the abstract sculpture on my coffee table. The cool, unyielding metal felt like a reflection of my own new resolve. I would not be practical. I would not compromise. I would not be quiet.

I was done with informal channels, with polite requests, with useless officials. I was going to walk into the lion's den. I carefully wrapped the sculpture in velvet cloth and placed it in a sturdy tote bag. It was time to prepare for war.