Chapter 6
The impact rattled the stained glass windows high above the altar. Arthur grunted as the wind was driven from his lungs, his head snapping back against the wood. Julian’s hands locked onto the lapels of the expensive grey suit, lifting the older man slightly off his feet.
"You aren't flying anywhere, Arthur," Julian said, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm register. The frantic edge had vanished, replaced by a cold, unrelenting focus. "The doctor in Zurich? We checked his credentials three weeks ago when Clara first mentioned the irregularities in the portfolio. He retired two years ago. The signature on that certificate is a forgery, and Vance’s recorder picked up every word of your confession."
Vance tapped the small metal device on the pew. The red light continued its steady pulse. "He's right, Arthur. The corporate security protocols for the Vance Foundation require all board communications to be routed through an encrypted server in New York. Every instruction you sent regarding Clara’s 'exit' has been mirrored to my terminal automatically since midnight."
Arthur’s face twisted, the mask of absolute control finally shattering into pieces. He didn't try to push Julian away. Instead, a grim, humorless smile touched the corners of his mouth. "You think a mirrored server protects you? Julian, my boy, you are a junior analyst living in a rented studio apartment. Clara is an heiress with a history of psychiatric treatment. Who do you think a grand jury is going to believe when I present the financial audits showing her embezzling millions from the foundation to fund your joint ventures?"
Clara stepped forward, her bare feet moving silently across the marble. The black wool coat swallowed her small frame, but her posture was straight, the terror in her eyes replaced by a chilling clarity.
"The audits are encrypted with my personal biometric key, Uncle," Clara said quietly. "The same key you tried to extract from my finger before you gave me the sedative. You thought I was unconscious, but I was just paralyzed. I felt every single cut you made when you tried to force the ring off."
Arthur’s eyes widened slightly as he looked at her hand. Clara raised her left ring finger; a raw, purple bruise circled the knuckle where a heavy diamond heirloom had once sat.
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"You're a monster," Evelyn whispered from the shadows of the altar, her hands covering her face as fresh tears spilled over her fingers. "We trusted you. My God, Arthur, we trusted you with everything."
"Power isn't built on trust, Evelyn," Arthur snarled, wrenching himself free from Julian’s grip with a sudden, violent twist of his shoulders. He straightened his tie with shaking fingers, smoothing the front of his grey suit. "Power is built on leverage. And right now, none of us are walking out of this chapel with clean hands."
