Chapter 11 - The Zurich Transfer
The rain began to fall harder outside, drumming a relentless, heavy rhythm against the slate roof of the carriage house. Marcus’s fingers gripped the fabric of Liam’s shirt so tightly his knuckles turned bone-white, his face inches away from his older brother's.
"If Julian reaches a terminal with those keys, the Swiss transfer aborts automatically," Marcus hissed, his voice losing all its polished boardroom composure and dropping into a desperate, frantic snarl. "Do you have any idea what the board will do to us if the Zurich deal falls through? We’ll be bankrupt by sunrise!"
"Then you should have thought about that before you let Mother turn our family into a criminal syndicate," Liam replied evenly, refusing to flinch under his brother's frantic gaze.
Marcus shoved Liam back against the server racks with enough force to rattle the heavy metal frames, sending a cascade of sparks spitting from a loose power cable. He turned sharply to the two tactical operatives standing by the door. "Search the grounds! Check the root cellar, the greenhouse, the old stables—tear the entire estate apart if you have to, but find Julian before he reaches a secure line!"
The operatives didn't hesitate, pivoting in unison and disappearing down the wooden stairwell with heavy, hurried footfalls.
Marcus turned back to Liam, breathing heavily, adjusting his glasses with a trembling hand as he tried to regain his composure. "You think you've won something here, don't you? You think walking away makes you a martyr."
"I'm not a martyr, Marcus," Liam said, slowly straightening his collar and brushing the dust off his forearms. "I'm the person who built the foundation you and Mother are currently standing on. And without me, Vance Global is just an empty shell full of paper promises."
"We have the capital, Liam. We have the political connections," Marcus countered, though his voice lacked conviction now. "You can't fight an empire."
"Empires built on sand always wash away when the tide comes in," Liam replied quietly. He casually reached behind his back, his fingers brushing against the cold steel handle of the old hunting revolver he had tucked into his waistband before the flashbang went off.
Before Marcus could respond, his tactical comms earpiece crackled to life with a burst of static.
"Sir, we checked the root cellar," an operative’s voice rasped through the speaker, laced with confusion and urgency. "It’s completely empty. But... we found something else down by the highway gate."
Marcus pressed a finger against his earpiece. "What did you find?"
"A burner phone... and Julian’s gray suit jacket," the operative reported. "And sir... the security cameras at the main gate just picked up Julian getting into a black federal transport van parked outside the perimeter."
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Marcus went completely rigid, turning his horrified gaze back toward Liam.
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