Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
Marcus Vance pushed his way through the gathered crowd, his mask slipping, veins bulging along his neck.
"Julian, Elena, this is utterly inappropriate!" Vance snarled, attempting to lower his voice while signaling frantically for the event security. "This is a private charity event, not a venue for sensationalist drama. If you've had an accident or an altercation, handle it through proper channels!"
Julian stepped forward, putting himself slightly ahead of Elena, his frame imposing and unyielding. "Proper channels, Marcus? Like Arthur Pendelton paying private operatives to break into her studio last night?"
Vance froze. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Or perhaps the proper channels you used with Clara Dupont?" Elena said, stepping beside Julian, her eyes locking onto Vance with devastating stillness. "Or Sarah Lin? Or Maya Torres?"
The mention of those names hit Vance like physical blows. He stepped back, looking wildly around the room. The board members, patrons, and city officials he had spent decades cultivating were staring at him with mounting horror.
"You're unhinged," Vance hissed, pointing a trembling finger at Elena. "You're a struggling artist trying to extort—"
"The United States Attorney's Office for the Southern District of New York doesn't act on unhinged claims, Marcus," Julian said, checking his watch. "It’s 8:15. Look behind you."
May you like
The heavy oak doors of the ballroom opened once more. Four federal agents in dark suits, accompanied by two uniformed officers, walked down the carpeted aisle with purposeful strides.
The lead agent stopped before Vance. "Marcus Vance? We have a federal warrant for your arrest on charges of racketeering, financial fraud, witness tampering, and felony assault."
