Chapter 14 - The Council's Shadow
"Lock down the main manor immediately," Julian ordered into the phone, slamming the receiver down. "Marcus, activate the steel shutters on the lower floors. No one enters without my direct clearance."
"Julian, who has diplomatic plates from the capital?" Clara asked, rising from her chair, her eyes darting toward the high library windows.
"The High Council," Julian said grimly, walking over to an antique cabinet behind the desk. He unlocked the hidden compartment and pulled out two tactical sidearms, checking the magazines before sliding one into his shoulder holster and offering the other to Clara. "The real architects of this country's shadow government. Victoria was just their errand girl. Now that her network has collapsed, they're coming to eliminate any loose ends before the federal prosecutors can connect the dots to their offices."
Clara looked at the cold steel of the weapon, then looked at Julian. Without hesitation, she took the gun, feeling its heavy, unyielding weight in her hands. "I ran my entire life without knowing why. I'm not running anymore."
Outside, the screech of tires on gravel echoed across the courtyard, followed by the heavy thud of car doors slamming shut. Julian and Clara walked to the heavy reinforced doors of the second-floor terrace, looking down into the courtyard.
Six black sedans sat idling in front of the marble fountain. A dozen men in impeccably tailored dark suits stood guard, armed with submachine guns held discreetly against their chests. From the central vehicle stepped an elderly man with immaculate white hair, leaning on an ivory-handled walking stick. He wore a silver lapel pin shaped like an ouroboros—the serpent eating its own tail.
"Senator Sterling," Marcus spat, peering through the ballistic glass. "Victoria's uncle. He heads the Senate Armed Services Committee. If he's here in person, he isn't looking to negotiate."
The elderly senator looked up directly toward the terrace, offering a polite, chilling smile as if he were attending an afternoon tea party. He raised a small megaphone to his lips.
"Julian! Clara!" the senator’s voice boomed smoothly across the stone courtyard. "Let us not drag this tragic family matter into further public embarrassment. The Sterling family and the Alistair family have shared power for nearly a century. We can bury Victoria's indiscretions quietly. Clara can be welcomed into the Council as a rightful heir."
Julian leaned over the balustrade, his voice carrying the full weight of his authority. "And what about my mother, Senator? Did she get welcomed into your Council before you locked her away in that Swiss clinic?"
May you like
Senator Sterling's polite smile vanished instantly, replaced by a mask of cold, predatory calculation.
"Your mother was a sentimental fool who almost ruined our grand design," the Senator replied coldly. "Just as you are doing now. You have five minutes to surrender Clara and the original bank archives, Julian. After that, we burn this manor to the ground and report that the tragic Alistair siblings died in a private gas explosion."
