Chapter 7
Arthur reacted instantly, standing up and pushing Elena toward the rear emergency exit that led into a secure alleyway. "Go, Elena. Now," he whispered urgently. She hesitated, looking torn between fleeing and staying to help, but Arthur’s resolute expression left no room for argument. She slipped through the back door just as the two corporate operatives strode down the narrow hallway toward the office. The lead operative, a scarred man with a broken nose, blocked the doorway, flashing a chilling smile. "Mr. Vance sends his regards, Arthur. Nice of you to save us the trouble of hunting you across all five boroughs."
Arthur stood his ground behind the desk, his hands resting calmly on the wooden surface. He felt no panic—only a strange, liberating sense of completion. He had lived his entire life dodging consequences, and now, facing them head-on, the fear had evaporated. "Marcus is terrified," Arthur said evenly, his voice carrying an unyielding strength. "He knows the federal indictments are already signed. Killing me won't stop the audit, Miller's men won't save his empire." The operative stepped closer, reaching inside his tailored jacket for a heavy, suppressed pistol. "Maybe not, but it stops you from standing in front of a federal judge tomorrow morning."
Before the operative could draw his weapon, the office door was suddenly kicked wide open from the outside. Miller stepped into the room, holding up a hand to stop his subordinate. He looked at Arthur with clinical curiosity. "Save the dramatics," Miller said, his voice flat. "We just want the remaining bag, Arthur. Hand it over, and maybe we let you walk away to whatever dark hole you planned on crawling into." Arthur looked at the remaining "PREMIUM PARIS" bag sitting on the floor beside his chair. He slowly bent down, picked it up by the straps, and placed it squarely on the desk between them. Miller stepped forward, reaching out to grab the handles. But instead of surrendering the cash, Arthur’s hand shot out, pressing a heavy brass paperweight down onto a hidden panic button wired directly to the local precinct—a security upgrade Elena had installed just weeks prior. A piercing, silent alarm flashed red lights across the interior of the office, signaling federal and local authorities that an active breach was underway.
