Chapter 4 - The Mask SlipsChairs scraped backward against the marble floor so violently that two of them overturned.
Uncle Arthur staggered back, clutching his chest as if he had just seen a ghost. Several board members dropped their pens, their mouths hanging open in stunned, paralyzed disbelief.
Victoria shrieked, stumbling backward until her hip slammed against the mahogany edge of the conference table. Her face turned the color of ash, her eyes darting frantically from my face down to my legs, which stood unyielding and strong beneath my tailored trousers.
“N-No…” Victoria gasped, clutching her throat. “That’s impossible! The doctors said… the medical reports confirmed your spine was crushed!”
“My doctors said whatever Marcus paid them to say,” I replied, stepping forward.
The heavy thud of my leather shoes hitting the floor sounded like gunshots in the dead silence of the room. I walked slowly around the table, my gaze locked onto Marcus, who had gone completely rigid. The color had drained entirely from his face, his smug confidence replaced by the wide-eyed panic of a cornered animal.
“You… you can walk,” Marcus whispered, his voice trembling.
“I’ve been able to walk for three months, Marcus,” I said, stopping just two feet away from him. I towered over him, my height and cold fury bearing down on his chest. “I wanted to see who would betray me. I wanted to see who would try to carve up my father’s legacy the second my back was turned. And lo and behold... I found the entire nest of vipers.”
Uncle Arthur finally found his voice, though it shook violently. “Julian! This… this is a theatrical stunt! You can’t just mock the board—guard! Security!”
“Save your breath, Arthur,” I snapped, not even looking at my uncle. I reached into my inner jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek black USB drive, tossing it onto the table in front of him. “That drive contains every encrypted financial transfer between Marcus’s offshore accounts and your personal Swiss holdings over the last twelve months. It also contains audio recordings of your private meetings discussing the hostile takeover of Vance Global.”
Arthur stared at the USB drive as if it were a live grenade.
“And that’s not all,” I continued, turning my attention back to Marcus. I raised my voice so it carried into the hallway. “Bring her in.”
The heavy boardroom doors pushed open.
Lily stepped inside, flanked not by rough security guards, but by two federal agents in dark suits wearing FBI badges.
Victoria let out a choked cry, gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white. “No… no, this is a setup! That maid is lying!”
“Lily isn't lying, Victoria,” I said smoothly, walking back toward my wheelchair and resting my hand on the back of it. “She heard you and Marcus plotting in the study. She heard Marcus order the tampering of my brake lines on Miller’s Curve. And unlike you, federal investigators don't rely on hearsay—they rely on forensic evidence.”
Special Agent Vance—no relation, thankfully—stepped forward, flashing a warrant.
“Marcus Sterling, you are under arrest for attempted murder, conspiracy to commit corporate fraud, and industrial sabotage,” the agent announced, stepping up to Marcus and slapping cold steel cuffs around his wrists. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
“Julian! Wait!” Marcus panicked, thrashing as the agents hauled him backward toward the doors. “We’re friends! We went to college together! You can’t do this to me—!”
“You stopped being my friend the second you tried to send me off a cliff,” I said coldly.
As Marcus was dragged out of the room, screaming obscenities, the heavy doors slammed shut once more, sealing his fate.
The silence in the boardroom was absolute. Every eye in the room was fixed on me, filled with a mixture of terror, awe, and desperate self-preservation.
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I turned my gaze slowly toward Victoria. She was trembling uncontrollably now, her mascara running down her cheeks, her expensive Chanel suit looking like a straitjacket of her own making.
“And as for you, my dear fiancée,” I whispered, stepping closer to her. “Our wedding is officially canceled.”
