Chapter 10
The sharp click of the firing pin striking an empty chamber echoed loudly in the cavernous ballroom.
Marcus stared down at the gold-plated derringer in sheer disbelief, pulling the second trigger with frantic desperation, only to be met with another dead click. He had loaded the weapon himself less than an hour ago, yet the cartridges had been swapped out while he was distracted by the state police sirens.
"Looking for your bullets, Uncle?" Arthur asked, holding up a small velvet pouch containing two gleaming brass rounds that he had lifted from Marcus’s coat pocket during their brief standoff in the conservatory.
Before Marcus could lunge forward or reach for his backup holster, the massive oak doors were kicked off their reinforced hinges once more. A phalanx of heavily armored state troopers and federal agents flooded the ballroom, their tactical shields forming an impenetrable wall that drove Marcus backward until his spine slammed hard against the marble drinks table.
The lead trooper grabbed Marcus by the collar, slamming his wrists into heavy steel handcuffs with a brutal, satisfying click. "Marcus Vance, you are under arrest for corporate conspiracy, extortion, corruption of public officials, and attempted murder."
Marcus thrashed wildly, his expensive gray overcoat tearing as he was hauled toward the exit. "You can't do this! I am Vance Global! I built this family!"
"You inherited a legacy you weren't smart enough to maintain," Arthur said coldly, watching as his treacherous brother was dragged out into the flashing red and blue lights of the courtyard.
The ballroom finally fell quiet again, save for the rhythmic patrain of the rain against the tall windows and the steady breathing of the tactical agents securing the perimeter.
Lyra walked over to the mahogany table, picking up the charred leather ledger that her mother had left behind. She opened it to the final page, her eyes tracing a handwritten note at the bottom that had been obscured by the bloodstains earlier.
"Dad," Lyra whispered, her voice trembling slightly for the first time all evening. "Look at this date. December 14th. The day before the car accident."
Arthur walked over, peering over her shoulder as he read the faded ink. The entry wasn't a financial transaction or a threat; it was a simple instruction, written in her mother's elegant, sweeping handwriting:
‘If you are reading this, Lyra has survived the wolves. Give her the key to the Swiss vault, and let the empire burn down to the last stone so she can build something real from the ashes.’
May you like
Arthur wrapped his arm around his daughter, pulling her close against his chest. "Your mother knew they would come for us, Lyra. She sacrificed everything to ensure you had the leverage to bring them down from the inside."
Lyra looked down at the key in her hand, then toward the shattered windows overlooking the sprawling estate. "Then let's finish it."
