Chapter 7 - The Counter-Strike
The next morning, the board of Vance Enterprises gathered in the glass-walled conference room. The atmosphere was venomous.
Marcus stood near the projector, looking smug. “Mr. Vance, the evidence is undeniable. Your wife committed treason against this company. We must hand the findings over to the FBI immediately and initiate divorce proceedings.”
Julian sat at the head of the table, perfectly calm. He pressed a button on his smartwatch.
The heavy oak doors opened. Clara walked in, wearing a sharp, tailored white suit, looking like an absolute queen.
Marcus paled. “Sir, she is supposed to be under house arrest—”
“Sit down, Marcus,” Julian commanded, his voice cracking like a whip.
Julian tapped a key on his laptop. The projector screen behind Marcus flickered, replacing the fabricated evidence against Clara with high-definition security footage. It showed Marcus in a dimly lit parking garage, accepting a heavy briefcase from Arthur Gallagher. The next slide showed offshore bank transfers from Victoria Sterling’s private accounts directly to Marcus’s Cayman Island shell company.
The board members gasped in outrage.
“You underestimated me, Marcus,” Julian said softly. “You thought you could bug my home? You thought you could frame my wife?”
Julian stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. “You aren't going to the FBI. Because I own the men who would arrest you. You are going to sign a full confession detailing Victoria Sterling and Arthur Gallagher’s conspiracy to commit corporate sabotage. If you do, I’ll let you leave the country with your life. If you don't… you won't leave this room.”
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Marcus collapsed into a chair, trembling violently, realizing he had just tried to play chess against the devil himself.
Clara stood beside Julian, their hands brushing under the table. The counter-strike was flawless. Victoria’s empire was finally crumbling to dust.
