Chapter 7: The Confrontation on Boulevard Haussmann
Two days later, Julien walked into the glass-and-steel boardroom of Sterling International on Boulevard Haussmann. Marcus Sterling, now seventy-two and white-haired, sat at the head of a massive mahogany table, flanked by four senior corporate attorneys.
"Julien," Marcus sneered, adjusting his gold cufflinks. "To what do I owe this unscheduled intrusion? If you're here to beg for a compromise on the hostile takeover, you're wasting your breath."
Julien tossed a heavy stack of notarized documents onto the center of the table, followed by the antique brass chronometer and the rusted tin toy car.
The brass mechanism clicked against the polished wood. Marcus glanced down, and all the color instantly drained from his weathered face.
"Recognize the craftsmanship, Marcus?" Julien asked, his voice dropping into a lethal, calm whisper. "My father's original blueprints. The original patent registries stamped by the French Patent Office in 1998, hidden in Banque Nationale box 408 before you torched his workshop."
"That... that's impossible," Marcus stammered, his hands trembling as he stared at the rusted toy car. "Arthur died in a shelter."
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"He did," Julien replied coldly. "Died with his integrity intact, while you built a five-billion-euro empire on stolen genius. You have forty-eight hours to sign over full ownership of the Sterling Horology patents and step down unconditionally, or these documents go straight to the financial crime prosecutor and the press."
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