Chapter 12
The cool subterranean air smelled faintly of ozone and peppermint, a bizarre combination that stung the back of Julian’s throat as they stepped onto the sleek metal platform of the private train station. The bullet-shaped locomotive hummed with suppressed power, its streamlined body reflecting the blue LED lights lining the curved concrete tunnel walls.
Maya marched purposefully toward the open sliding doors of the first carriage, her patent-leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the metal ramp. She paused at the threshold, turned around, and looked back at Julian and Clara with an expectant expression.
"Are you coming or not?" Maya asked, tapping her tiny foot against the floor. "Board meetings wait for no one. Especially not executives who haven't audited their marital assets."
Julian stood frozen on the platform, staring at the sleek, futuristic interior of the train car visible through the sliding glass doors. Plush leather armchairs, mahogany conference tables, and glowing holographic stock charts lined the cabin, looking more like a mobile boardroom than public transit.
"I am not getting on a corporate bullet train operated by a kindergartener," Julian said through gritted teeth, crossing his arms over his black tuxedo jacket.
"Julian, please," Clara murmured, her voice laced with exhaustion. She clutched the heavy gold bar against her chest, her wedding veil catching a stray draft from the tunnel ventilation system. "Look behind us."
Julian glanced back over his shoulder. Down the long white corridor they had just traversed, the heavy steel vault doors were beginning to close automatically. Behind them, several men in black tactical suits were jogging down the tunnel, their boots echoing ominously against the floor.
"Fine," Julian muttered in bitter defeat. "We get on the train."
They hurried inside just as the sliding doors hissed shut, sealing them off from the pursuing guards. The moment the doors locked into place, the train lurched forward with a smooth, frictionless acceleration that pressed Julian and Clara back against the leather seats.
Within seconds, the train was rocketing through the subterranean tunnel at blinding speeds, the blue lights outside blurring into a continuous, glowing streak of neon.
Maya climbed up into a plush executive leather armchair at the head of the mahogany conference table, swinging her legs freely as she pulled a tiny gold-plated tablet from her purple tulle sash.
"Now that we’re underway," Maya announced, her voice adopting a startlingly professional corporate tone, "we can begin the strategic review of your marriage contract. Specifically, the debt consolidation phase."
Julian slumped into the armchair opposite her, resting his elbows on the table and rubbing his face with his hands. "Maya, I am begging you. Can we just talk about normal kid things? Do you like playgrounds? Finger painting? Anything that doesn't involve hostile corporate takeovers?"
"Playgrounds are inefficient resource allocations, Uncle Julian," Maya replied without looking up from her tablet. "Real estate values in public parks are stagnant. Confectionery real estate, however, yields a thirty percent quarterly return."
Clara sat beside Julian, placing the heavy gold bar gently onto the polished mahogany surface. She looked across the table at her niece, searching the child's face for any trace of the warmth or innocence a six-year-old should possess.
May you like
"Maya," Clara said softly, her voice cutting through the hum of the train engine. "Where is my father taking us?"
Maya finally lowered the tablet, her dark eyes locking onto Clara’s with an unsettling, adult intensity. "Grandfather isn't taking you anywhere, Aunt Clara. He’s waiting at the final terminal. And he brought a guest."
