The Collapse
The ballroom below erupted into chaos. The music snapped off, replaced by the panicked shouting of executives and the frantic clinking of dropped glassware.
Marcus stared at Clara, his eyes burning with a sudden, feral rage. He dropped his scotch glass; it shattered on the marble floor, amber liquid pooling around his shining shoes. He took a step toward her, his hands clenching into fists. "You've ruined us. Everything we built."
"You built it on a cemetery," Clara said, standing her ground.
Before Marcus could move, the gallery doors burst open. Julian ran in, his tie loosened, his hair disheveled. His face was a mask of terror. "Marcus! The board is calling an emergency meeting. The feds just frozen our primary accounts. They're saying someone leaked the core architecture files!"
Julian stopped when he saw Clara standing next to his brother. He looked between them, confusion turning to a horrible realization. "Clara? What is this? Why are you up here?"
"She's the leak, you idiot," Marcus spat, not breaking eye contact with Clara. "Your little charity case just cut our throats."
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Julian looked at Clara as if seeing her for the first time. The charming, confident man from the cocktail table vanished, replaced by a frightened boy who realized his castle was made of sand. "Clara... why? I loved you. I trusted you."
"You trusted an image, Julian," Clara said, her voice softening slightly, not out of malice, but out of a sudden, profound exhaustion. "Just like the world trusted yours."
