Chapter 6
The fluorescent lighting of the federal holding facility hummed with a low, oppressive frequency. The concrete walls were painted a dull, institutional green, smelling faintly of industrial disinfectant and old paper. Julian Vance sat on a metal bench bolted to the floor, his dark burgundy button-up shirt wrinkled and stained with dust from the courtyard pavement. His hair was disheveled, and the arrogant veneer that usually defined his posture had completely collapsed, leaving behind a bitter, desperate shell of a man.
The heavy iron door swung open with a loud metallic clang. A guard in a navy uniform stepped aside, gesturing toward the visitor’s partition. “Twenty minutes, Vance. Don't make trouble.”
Julian didn't look up immediately. He assumed it was his court-appointed defense attorney bringing bad news about the bail hearing. But when the heavy plastic divider rattled, Julian raised his head and saw a face he hadn't expected to see for at least a decade.
Standing on the other side of the glass was Viktor Vance, Arthur’s estranged younger brother and the black sheep of the family who had been legally erased from the corporate registry twenty years prior. Viktor looked older, his hair completely white, but his eyes retained the sharp, predatory gleam that had terrified boardrooms back in the nineties.
Julian scrambled off the bench, rushing to the glass and pressing his palm against the reinforced partition. “Uncle Viktor!” Julian whispered urgently, looking around to ensure the guards weren't listening. “You have to help me. Arthur and Clara have completely locked me out. They’ve seized everything. If you don't post my bail, I’m going away for twenty years.”
Viktor slowly lifted the heavy black telephone receiver attached to the wall, his expression devoid of warmth or familial pity. Julian nervously picked up his own receiver, pressing it tightly against his ear.
“You always were remarkably short-sighted, Julian,” Viktor’s voice crackled through the small speaker, laced with dry amusement. “You thought taking down Clara on the front steps would force Arthur to hand over the keys to the kingdom. You didn't realize that Arthur was waiting for an excuse to clean house entirely.”
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“I didn't plan to shove her!” Julian protested defensively, his voice rising in panic. “She provoked me! She walked right into my path and smiled at me like she already owned the damn building!”
“She does own it, Julian,” Viktor said coldly. “And now you’re sitting in a federal holding cell while she consolidates power. But let’s talk about why I’m here. You still hold power-of-attorney over the old European shipping accounts in Zurich. Sign them over to my holding company today, and I’ll have my lawyers post your bail by midnight.”
