Chapter 9 - The Fracture
Security guards moved toward the stairs, but Mateo Ortiz stepped out from the private gallery above, Eleanor Vance walking beside him. Eleanor raised a single, frail hand toward the security chief—a man who had guarded her estate for twenty years.
The chief hesitated, then held his team in place.
"The board will say this is an internal matter," Julian spoke into the microphone, his voice growing stronger as the burden lifted from his chest. "They will say these documents are unverified. They are sitting in the public registry tonight, submitted electronically fifteen minutes ago by the Vance estate’s trustee: Eleanor Vance."
A dozen journalists near the press riser began typing frantically, their camera flashes illuminating Julian’s face in stark, rhythmic strobes.
"The fifty-million-dollar endowment for the Vance Arts Center is canceled," Julian declared. "Instead, the Vance estate will liquidate its commercial holdings in the Mirasol district. Every cent will be placed into an independent restitution trust, overseen not by a Vance, but by the surviving families of the harbor dispute."
Marcus Hayes reached the lectern, his hands slamming down on the wood. "You’ve destroyed us, you insolent fool! You’ve bankrupted your wife’s family! You have no authority to liquidate without a board vote!"
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"I own fifty-one percent of the voting trust as of midnight, Marcus," Julian said, looking his father’s oldest friend directly in the eyes. "And Eleanor controls the proxy. The vote was taken twenty minutes ago in her sitting room."
Julian stepped back from the microphone, took Clara’s hand, and walked off the stage.
