Vanessa was a woman of passion, a woman of art. But she was also a practical woman, a business woman. In that her and Wilson were the same, their souls the sum of two very different components.
She thought of that last phone-call, that sounded too much like a goodbye. She looked at the ring on her finger. Wilson, asking her to marry him while being dragged away by the police. She thought of him, whispering to her ear the escape plan and then, over and over, a string of numbers and two single words. “Remember it, Vanessa.” She loved the sound of her name on his voice. Vanessa. She desperately wanted to hear it again.
The numbers were coordinates to an old warehouse in Naples. Inside she found a laptop. She opened it, turned it on. On the screen, a blinking cursor demanded that she keyed in a password. She painstakingly entered the two words Wilson had given her, one keyboard at a time: OPERATION KINGPIN. And she was in. All of Wilson's assets. All of Wesley's carefully arranged back-up plans. Wesley who thought of everything, from the choice of wine to every possible output, even the likelihood that she would find herself alone. Dear Wesley, watching over them even after his death. Wilson Fisk may be in prison and his empire in ruin but the police was never going to find all of their hidden cash of money and secret accounts, nor discover all their invisible connections all over the world. Wilson's men were at her side, Francis watching discreetly over her from a few feet away. She would built that empire back again and free her Wilson. Then, she would have her vengeance.
Tonal reds
Vanessa was a woman of passion, a woman of art.
But she was also a practical woman, a business woman.
In that her and Wilson were the same, their souls the sum of two very different components.
She thought of that last phone-call, that sounded too much like a goodbye.
She looked at the ring on her finger.
Wilson, asking her to marry him while being dragged away by the police.
She thought of him, whispering to her ear the escape plan and then, over and over, a string of numbers and two single words.
“Remember it, Vanessa.”
She loved the sound of her name on his voice. Vanessa. She desperately wanted to hear it again.
The numbers were coordinates to an old warehouse in Naples.
Inside she found a laptop. She opened it, turned it on. On the screen, a blinking cursor demanded that she keyed in a password. She painstakingly entered the two words Wilson had given her, one keyboard at a time: OPERATION KINGPIN.
And she was in. All of Wilson's assets. All of Wesley's carefully arranged back-up plans. Wesley who thought of everything, from the choice of wine to every possible output, even the likelihood that she would find herself alone. Dear Wesley, watching over them even after his death.
Wilson Fisk may be in prison and his empire in ruin but the police was never going to find all of their hidden cash of money and secret accounts, nor discover all their invisible connections all over the world.
Wilson's men were at her side, Francis watching discreetly over her from a few feet away.
She would built that empire back again and free her Wilson. Then, she would have her vengeance.