Chapter 11 - The Wolf at the Door
The lobby of First Dominion Bank was a temple of neoclassical greed—soaring marble columns, gilded ceilings, and armed security guards positioned at every gilded doorway.
Julian pulled a wet wool flat cap low over his forehead as he entered through the revolving doors among a crowd of wet, umbrella-carrying business executives. He didn't try to hide like a fugitive. In the heart of the business district, the best disguise was absolute confidence. He carried a sleek black leather briefcase, walking with the brisk, commanding stride of a senior corporate partner.
Across the polished lobby, sitting inside the glass-walled VIP conference room, was Victoria. She was dressed in an ostentatious black mourning coat, sipping herbal tea while two high-priced corporate attorneys shuffled through thick stacks of parchment. On the table between them sat the opened steel lockbox that had once belonged to Elena.
Julian saw her laugh—a light, dismissive chuckle as one of the attorneys pointed out a signature line. She had no remorse. No guilt. Less than twenty-four hours after beating a four-year-old child, she was celebrating the theft of that child’s future.
Julian felt the cold steel of the 9mm concealed in his inner coat pocket. His pulse slowed to a steady, rhythmic thud. He didn't draw the weapon. Bloodshed here would only validate Eleanor's fabricated narrative. He needed a kill shot, but of a different kind.
He reached into his pocket and dialed the bank manager’s direct private desk line using a cloned SIM burner phone.
Inside the glass room, the private desk phone buzzed. The lead attorney, an arrogant man named Arthur Vance—Julian’s distant cousin—picked it up. ""Arthur Vance speaking.""
""Look out the glass, Arthur,"" Julian said into the phone.
Arthur’s eyes drifted upward and locked directly onto Julian standing fifty feet away by the central marble pillar. Arthur’s face went completely bloodless. His hand began to shake as he slowly put down the receiver without hanging up.
Victoria noticed Arthur’s expression and turned around. The moment she saw Julian’s silhouette through the glass, her teacup shattered on the hardwood floor, dark amber liquid splashing across her designer shoes.
""Security!"" Victoria shrieked through the glass partition. ""He's here! He has a gun! Shoot him!""
Panic erupted across the bank lobby. Customers screamed, diving behind marble counters. Two armed bank guards drew their service weapons, shouting conflicting commands as they closed in on Julian’s position.
May you like
Julian didn't run. He calmly opened his briefcase, pulled out a thick stack of legal briefs tied with red ribbon, and slammed them onto the customer service counter.
""Call the Federal Bureau of Investigation!"" Julian’s voice boomed across the marble hall, cutting through the screams with the sheer power of a seasoned trial attorney. ""I am Julian Vance, senior partner at Vance & Associates! I am here to execute a federal search warrant for treason, tax fraud, and the murder of Elena Vance!""
