Chapter 1: The Broadcast
The glare of four smartphone flashes bounced off the display case, turning the polished sapphire glass of the one-of-a-kind chronometer into a blinding white glare.
Julian didn’t blink. He kept his hands resting inside his worn denim pockets, his plain white tee looking entirely out of place amidst the marble and gold accents of the flagship boutique on 5th Avenue.
Across from him stood Carter Hayes. Carter was a fixture on social feeds—designer leather jacket draped over his shoulders, sunglasses propped in styled hair, and a smirk that had never known genuine rejection. Behind Carter, his usual crew of yes-men giggled like hyenas, aiming their lenses to capture what they promised their followers would be the "clout check of the century."
"Listen to this clown!" Carter shouted directly into his front camera, angling it so Julian’s quiet frame filled the background. "Over here dreaming in thrift-store cotton! Hey guys, drop a million likes and I’ll personally buy him a bus ticket out of Manhattan!"
The live chat surged with laughing emojis and mocking comments.
Julian calmly pulled his phone from his pocket. His screen didn’t carry social feeds or flashy notifications. It showed a direct private dial line.
"Step back, Carter," Julian said, his voice even and unhurried. "This store belongs to the Vance Foundation. It belongs to my father. You’re making a scene in a place built for craftsmanship, not circus tricks."
"Your father?" Carter sneered, stepping closer until their chests nearly touched. "Your father probably sweeps the subway platform. If this family empire is yours, I’ll drop to both knees right here, live on stream, and kiss the floor you stand on."
"Don't make promises you can't afford," Julian replied.
He tapped a single button on his keypad and lifted the receiver to his ear.
May you like
"Marcus," Julian spoke clearly into the mic. "Clear the floor."
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