Chapter 9
Julian stepped out from the shadows of the archway, his voice cutting through the silent foyer like a razor blade. “Step away from my mother, Arthur.”
Arthur froze mid-sentence, the pen hovering just inches above the parchment. He slowly turned around, his expression shifting from mild irritation to a cold, calculating amusement. He looked Julian up and down, noting the dust on his trench coat and the faint abrasions on his hands from forcing open the vault door.
“I must admit, Julian, I underestimated your tenacity,” Arthur said, lowering the documents slightly. “Breaking out of the basement vault isn’t a trivial feat. Your father would have been almost proud of you—if he hadn’t despised your soft moral compass.”
Julian didn’t waste time exchanging verbal sparring. He crossed the distance between them with dangerous speed, his jaw set and his eyes burning with intense anger. He grabbed Arthur by the lapels of his coat, shoving him backward against the polished marble pillars until the older man let out a sharp gasp of surprise.
“You’re finished, Arthur,” Julian snarled, his voice low and vibrating with restrained violence. “The police are already tracking the emergency override on the estate security system. Every document you and Victoria forged tonight is going straight into federal evidence.”
Before Arthur could reply, Victoria emerged smoothly from the library, her expression as cold and menacing as ever. She held a small, heavy silver candlestick in her hand, using it as an improvised weapon rather than a source of light. She didn’t look panicked; instead, her eyes were fixed entirely on Julian with predatory calculation.
“The police won’t find anything, Julian, because you forgot one crucial detail,” Victoria said softly, stepping closer with slow, measured steps.
Martha’s eyes widened in sudden horror. “Julian, don’t listen to her! It’s a distraction!”
Too late, Julian heard the heavy footstep behind him. Before he could turn, a sharp blow struck the back of his shoulder, followed by a second assailant grabbing his arms and pinning them securely to his sides. It was one of the estate’s private security guards, corrupted by Arthur’s bribes weeks ago.
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Julian struggled fiercely, his muscles straining against the guard’s grip, but the tactical restraint was absolute. Arthur pushed himself away from the pillar, straightening his coat with a smooth, unbothered motion. He reached out and retrieved the legal documents from the marble floor where they had fallen during the scuffle.
“Loyalty is a very fragile commodity, Julian,” Arthur remarked smoothly. “Just like security codes and safety deposit boxes. You thought you were protecting your mother all evening, but you simply played right into the perimeter we drew around you.”
