Chapter 12
Richard stood in the center of the gravel pathway, holding a heavy iron garden tool like a baseball bat, his chest heaving as he stared down his former father-in-law. The pristine corporate golden boy was entirely gone, replaced by a desperate, cornered animal whose entire facade of wealth and untouchability had been systematically stripped away.
"You ruined everything, you old bastard," Richard snarled, his voice cracking with unhinged fury. "I built Vanguard Global from the ground up. I gave Clara everything she ever wanted. And you had to stick your nose into things you didn't understand!"
Arthur stopped ten paces away, his breath coming in steady, controlled clouds in the cold morning air. His right hand still gripped his revolver, though the barrel was pointed safely at the ground. He didn't raise his voice; when he spoke, every word carried the weight of a lifetime of hard-earned truth.
"You didn't build anything, Richard," Arthur said, his eyes locking onto his former son-in-law with an intensity that made Richard flinch despite himself. "You stole, you manipulated, and you preyed on someone who trusted you. You thought you could hide behind shell corporations and expensive lawyers because you never learned the difference between power and cruelty."
Richard let out a harsh, bitter laugh, taking a slow step forward. "Power is the only thing that matters, Arthur. And right now, I hold all the cards. My brother's team is hunting your daughter down as we speak. That phone is going to be retrieved, and you and Clara are going to vanish."
"Your brother's team is currently walking into a federal trap," Arthur replied evenly, a faint smile touching his lips. "Marcus didn't just quarantine your servers; he transmitted your entire ledger directly to the Department of Justice’s elite task force thirty minutes ago. Federal warrants have already been signed for both you and Julian."
For a fraction of a second, the color drained completely from Richard’s face. The arrogant facade cracked wide open, revealing the absolute panic underneath. In a blind, desperate surge of adrenaline, Richard lunged forward, swinging the heavy iron tool toward Arthur’s head with murderous intent.
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Arthur didn't hesitate. Stepping inside the arc of the swing with practiced precision, he caught Richard's wrist with his left hand and delivered a devastating, palm-heel strike straight to Richard’s chest, dropping the younger man instantly to the gravel. Richard gasped for air, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed into the wet grass, utterly defeated.
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