Chapter 6
The heavy thud of boots against the flagstones of the private garden terrace sent a fresh wave of tension rippling through the trapped occupants of the dining room. Evelyn turned her sharp gaze toward the floor-to-ceiling glass doors, where heavy rain had begun to streak the panes. Julian stopped struggling against the marshals, his breathing shallow as he stared at the shadows moving behind the frosted glass.
“Who else is out there?” Julian muttered, his voice trembling as the reality of his isolation finally set in.
The lead agent motioned to his subordinates to secure the terrace exit, but before the marshals could reach the handles, the glass doors blew inward with a deafening crash. Shards of safety glass showered across the imported rug, scattering like diamonds under the harsh glare of the chandelier.
Through the smoke and mist of the stormy night stepped a figure in a heavy trench coat, flanked by three armed private security operatives bearing the insignia of the Vance-Miller competing conglomerate.
“Stand down, federal marshals,” a deep, gravelly voice commanded over the sound of the howling wind.
Elena instinctively stepped back, her hand brushing against the mahogany table as she recognized the man standing in the breach. It was Marcus Cole, the ruthless corporate raider who had spent the last decade trying legally—and illegally—to dismantle her father’s legacy from the outside.
“Cole,” Evelyn hissed, her voice dripping with venom as she leaned heavily on her cane for support. “You trespass on private property with armed mercenaries. Have you lost your mind?”
Marcus stepped over the broken glass, his leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the floor. He ignored Evelyn entirely, locking his cold, calculating eyes onto Elena, who stood defiantly between the federal agents and her disgraced family.
“I didn't come here to trespass, Mrs. Vance,” Marcus said, a thin, sardonic smile playing on his lips. “I came to collect the rest of the collateral.”
Julian let out a harsh, bitter laugh from his restrained position between the marshals. “You think you can just walk in here and take the holding shares? The board will never ratify a hostile takeover while we’re under federal investigation.”
Marcus stopped ten feet away, pulling a thick manila folder from beneath his trench coat and holding it up for everyone to see.
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“The board already ratified it, Julian,” Marcus replied smoothly. “About twenty minutes ago, while you were busy screaming at your sister over a dead man’s phone call.”
Elena’s heart skipped a beat as she looked at the seals on the folder. They weren't Marcus’s corporate stamps—they belonged to the federal oversight committee.
