Chapter 3 - The Broken Mask
The silence surrounding their table was immediate and absolute. Several nearby patrons stopped mid-conversation, eager to witness the collision between Richard’s reckless pride and Julian Thorne’s untouchable authority.
Julian did not flinch. He casually adjusted the cuff of his navy jacket, shielding Lily from Richard’s view with the sheer width of his shoulders.
"Lower your voice, Sterling," Julian said, his tone icy and flat. "Children are present."
"Don't give me lectures on decorum!" Richard spat, stepping closer, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of nervousness. He glared at Clara. "What pathetic stunt is this, Clara? Did you drag our daughter here just to beg a stranger to humiliate me?"
Clara felt the old instinct to shrink back, to apologize to smooth over his explosive temper. But then she felt Julian’s hand rest gently upon her shoulder—a silent, immovable anchor.
She lifted her head and looked Richard directly in the eye. "I was invited as an honorary trustee of the museum foundation, Richard. You knew that. You just didn't expect me to accept."
"And you," Richard hissed, turning back to Julian. "What are you playing at? Dancing with my ex-wife like she's some prize? She has nothing left. I took care of that."
A collective murmur rippled through the spectators. Evelyn hurried up behind Richard, tugging his arm to pull him away, but his vanity wouldn't allow him to retreat.
Julian stepped forward, closing the distance between them until he towered over Richard. The ambient warmth of the room seemed to drop five degrees.
"Clara may have signed away her shares to escape your mediocrity," Julian stated in a low, resonant voice that carried across the surrounding tables. "However, she did not sign away the patent rights registered under her maiden name. Which means, Sterling... your proprietary software belongs to her. And as of midnight, the license expires."
Richard’s face drained of color. He staggered back half a step, staring at Clara in sheer horror as if he were seeing a ghost.
"That's impossible," Richard choked out.
"Check your server notifications," Julian murmured with terrifying stillness. "Now, step aside. We are leaving."
May you like
Julian turned and offered his arm to Clara once more, picking up Lily’s small velvet coat with his free hand. Clara took his arm, heart hammering against her ribs. But as they walked toward the heavy oak exit doors, a private security guard sprinted toward them, blocking the threshold.
"Mr. Thorne, sir," the guard panted, glancing nervously around. "You cannot leave through the lobby. There are police cars pulling into the courtyard right now—and they have a warrant."
