Chapter 9
The gold-plated derringer caught the harsh overhead light of the crystal chandelier, gleaming like a tiny executioner’s axe. Marcus Vance didn't even blink as he kept the barrel centered squarely on Lyra’s chest, his fingers resting casually on the delicate double triggers.
"Put the gun down, Marcus," Arthur said, his voice terrifyingly calm as he took half a step forward. "You're surrounded by federal snipers outside every window. If you pull that trigger, you won't make it to the front doors."
Marcus laughed, a dry, grating sound that lacked any real humor. "Snipers? Arthur, look at the security monitors outside. Your precious federal task force has already been neutralized by local police units on my payroll. The badgeholders answer to the highest bidder in this state, and I outbid the Department of Justice an hour ago."
Lyra didn't flinch. She kept her hands loosely at her sides, her silver evening gown shimmering slightly as she shifted her weight onto her left foot. The visible scars across her shoulder seemed to pulse under the light, a permanent reminder of every cruel demand Marcus and Julian had inflicted upon her.
"You really think local cops can override federal jurisdiction, Uncle?" Lyra asked, her voice soft and mocking. "You spent so much time counting our money that you forgot to check who audited the police pension funds last week."
Marcus frowned, his thumb tightening fractionally on the trigger. "What are you talking about?"
"My father didn't just spend five years hiding in Geneva," Lyra continued, taking a slow step toward him. "He spent them buying up every distressed municipal bond in the tri-state area. The police department you think you bought? Their retirement accounts are backed entirely by Vance Global assets. The moment those officers stepped onto this property, their pensions were frozen."
At that exact second, the heavy iron gates outside echoed with the unmistakable sound of sirens—not federal sirens, but the screech of state police cruisers arriving in overwhelming force, their red and blue strobes painting the ballroom windows in flashing crimson and azure.
A heavy megaphone voice boomed across the estate gardens: "Marcus Vance, drop your weapon and step away from the civilian hostages! This property is under federal and state seizure!"
Marcus’s face drained of color, his hand trembling slightly as the gold derringer wavered. "That's... that's impossible. I signed those bond transfers yesterday."
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"You signed forged documents provided by my father's legal team," Lyra said, closing the distance between them until the cold metal barrel was only inches from her dress. "You were so eager to destroy us that you didn't even read the fine print on your own merger contract."
Marcus screamed in blind rage, his finger slamming down on the front trigger of the derringer.
