Chapter 2 - Handcuffs Beneath the Chandelier
The ambient noise of the wedding reception died instantly, replaced by a suffocating silence that pressed against Julian’s eardrums. The tactical agents moved with practiced, terrifying precision, closing the distance across the polished floorboards before anyone could scream. Julian’s hands twitched toward his pockets, his fingers brushing the cool silk of his white boutonnière.
"There must be some mistake," Julian said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, calculated calm. He kept his shoulders squared, relying on the sheer presence of his thirty-year-old frame to command the room. "This is a private venue. You have no jurisdiction here without a signed magistrate warrant."
The lead agent stopped three paces away, his badge catching the amber glow of the wall sconces. "Warrant’s right here, Mr. Vance. Signed thirty minutes ago by Judge Holloway." The agent glanced down at the blue velvet box still resting on the cocktail table between Julian and Elena. "And I see you brought the primary exhibit to your own reception. That makes our job significantly easier."
Elena stood frozen, the half-eaten chocolate bar clutched in her right hand like a talisman. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the plunging neckline of her wedding dress, the expensive fabric straining against her sudden agitation.
"Julian," Elena choked out, her voice trembling with a mixture of betrayal and cold shock. "Is this true? Twelve million dollars?"
"Elena, look at me," Julian pleaded, taking a half-step toward her. His dark eyes searched her face, desperate for the unconditional trust she had promised him at the altar just an hour prior. "These men are chasing a shadow. Someone framed me. You know me. We built this life together."
"We built it on what, Julian?" Elena's voice cracked, her dark eyes hardening into obsidian. "On stolen bonds?"
"He didn't steal them from a bank," Lily interrupted calmly, standing near the dessert table and kicking the toe of her patent leather shoe against the baseboard. She popped a piece of chocolate into her mouth. "He stole them from a safe house in Zurich belonging to a man named Viktor Vance. Who happens to be his uncle."
Julian froze, the blood draining entirely from his face. He stared down at the six-year-old girl, a cold terror gripping his spine.
"How do you know that name?" Julian hissed, lunging forward.
May you like
Before Julian could take another step, cold steel clamped around his wrists with a sharp, metallic click.
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