Chapter 12: The Reckoning
Heavy boots slammed against the wooden stairs outside the loft, the sound growing louder with every passing second. Marcus positioned himself near the doorway, hefting the heavy metal wrench with a grim, resolute expression.
“They’re at the landing,” Marcus warned, his muscles tensing.
Julian stood up from the workbench, pocketing the flash drive just in case. He walked over to Elena, offering her a steady hand to help her stand. “We need to move toward the freight exit at the back. There’s a fire escape leading to the alley.”
Before they could reach the exit, the heavy wooden door of the loft splintered inward with a deafening crash. Splinters flew across the room as two armed operatives in tactical gear burst through, weapons raised.
“Nobody move!” the lead operative bellowed, scanning the room before locking his eyes onto Julian. “Mr. Vance. Chairman Vance wants a word with you.”
A tall, silver-haired man in an immaculate charcoal overcoat stepped through the shattered doorway behind the operatives. Robert Vance looked older than his years, but his posture radiated cold, calculating authority. His eyes surveyed the chaotic loft with mild annoyance, ignoring Clara entirely as she shrank back in horror.
“Julian,” Robert said smoothly, walking into the room as if strolling through a country club. “I must admit, I expected better judgment from you. Siding with a disgruntled maid and playing detective with dead men’s secrets is a rather pathetic way to run a family empire.”
“It’s not a family empire anymore, Robert,” Julian said, stepping firmly in front of Elena and the wood stove. His voice was steady, devoid of fear. “It’s a criminal enterprise. And your tenure as chairman just expired.”
Robert chuckled softly, a dry, humorless sound. “You think a few stolen folders and some sentimental drawings are going to bring down a foundation built over forty years? The federal regulators are in our pocket, Julian. Nobody is going to read your little files.”
“They already have,” Julian replied, a faint, confident smile touching the corner of his mouth. “The entire archive was transmitted to federal investigators three minutes ago. Every offshore wire transfer, every falsified safety audit, and Thomas Miller’s video confession detailing how you ordered the harbor sabotage.”
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Robert’s confident expression faltered for a fraction of a second. His eyes darted to the laptop on the workbench, which still displayed a flashing confirmation screen from the federal receiver.
“You arrogant fool,” Robert hissed, signaling his operatives with a sharp flick of his wrist. “Take the laptop. And make sure none of them leave this room alive.”
