Chapter 13 - The Architect's Defense
"I expected you two hours ago," Victoria said calmly, setting her teacup down onto a silver saucer.
Behind her stood two men in civilian suits, their hands folded neatly across their fronts, the slight bulges beneath their jackets confirming their weapons.
Julian stepped in front of Arthur, his jaw clenched. "It’s over, Victoria. The police, the courts, the press—they’re getting the entire ledger. We know about Arthur. We know about the IVF swap. We know what you did to me when I was seven."
Victoria didn't flinch. She rose from her leather executive chair with the effortless grace of someone who had never lost a boardroom battle. "You think you understand the world, Julian, but you are hopelessly naive. Do you know what would have happened to the Vance name if I hadn't taken you?"
She stepped closer, her heels clicking rhythmically on the raised server room floor. "Your father was a degenerate who would have sold our family name to European loan sharks. Arthur was a renegade scientist playing God in an unregulated clinic, indifferent to the empire our ancestors built. I protected this family. I preserved it."
"You stole a child!" Arthur snarled, his voice thick with decades of suppressed rage. "You stole my son, poisoned his body, and turned him into a puppet for your vanity!"
Victoria turned her ice-cold gaze onto Arthur. "I gave him an empire. He grew up in mansions, attended Ivy League institutions, and inherited a multi-billion-dollar fund. What would you have given him, Arthur? A cot in the back of a laboratory? A life on the run from ethics boards?"
"You didn't do it for him," Julian said, his voice dropping into a chilling, quiet rage. "You did it because without an heir, the board was removing you as CEO. You used me as a meat shield to keep your corner office."
Victoria smiled thinly. "And it worked. For thirty-two years, it worked flawlessly. And it will continue to work." She gestured slightly to the men behind her. "The court hearing this morning has already been rescheduled to an emergency closed-door session in Judge Miller’s private chambers. He’s an old friend of the family. Clara will be declared unfit in absentia, the infant will be placed in my temporary custody, and you, Julian, will check into a luxury rehabilitation facility in Switzerland to recover from your 'nervous breakdown.'"
"And Arthur?" Julian asked, his voice shaking.
May you like
Victoria's smile vanished. "Arthur died in 1994. Dead men cannot be murdered twice."
The guard on the right drew a suppressed pistol, raising it toward Arthur’s chest.
