Chapter 7 - The Confession
The foul, freezing gutter water soaked Julian Hayes from head to toe, destroying his pristine hair, his bespoke tuxedo, and his high-society dignity in a single second. The esteemed Dean spluttered, coughing on mud and dead leaves, while the city's elite watched in horrified disbelief.
“How dare you!” Hayes shrieked, wiping mud from his eyes. “I am a respected civic leader! You are a dead man, Damon! The police will lock you in a dark cell for the rest of your miserable life!”
Damon calmly reached inside his coat and produced an iPad, tapping the screen once before turning it toward the gathering crowd of hospital board members, investors, and city officials.
A high-definition audio clip played over the ballroom’s state-of-the-art sound system, connected via Bluetooth.
“...Make it look clean, Hayes. The old man’s heart is weak anyway. A double dose of potassium in his saline drip. Nobody will order an autopsy on an impoverished bankrupt fool.”
The voice on the recording was unmistakably Richard Vance.
Then came Julian Hayes’s voice, clear as crystal: “The risk is high, Richard. That kind of medical forgery costs two million dollars upfront, transferred to my Swiss account under the name Phoenix Group.”
“Done. Kill him tonight.”
The ballroom erupted. Gasps of absolute horror echoed through the hall. Esteemed surgeons and hospital directors backed away from Hayes as if he carried the black plague.
“No... no, that’s fake! AI-generated nonsense!” Hayes screamed, dropping to his knees, clutching his head. “It’s a frame job!”
Damon stepped forward, his shoe pressing down firmly onto Hayes’s hand, grinding his fingers against the wet marble.
A sharp, sickening crunch echoed through the hall, followed by Hayes’s bloodcurdling shriek.
“A-Aagh! Stop! Please, my hand! My surgeon’s hand!”
“You used that hand to end my father’s life,” Damon said with chilling detachment, leaning down until his eyes were inches from Hayes’s tear-streaked face. “Who gave the order to Richard? Richard was a coward; he didn't have the brains to organize a Swiss laundering pipeline through the Phoenix Clan. Who was behind him?”
Hayes choked on his own saliva, his eyes wide with pure terror. “I don’t know! I swear I don’t know! Richard only said it came from the main capital! A woman... a woman named Madame Evelyn!”
Damon’s gaze darkened. Evelyn Vance—his father’s elder sister, the woman who currently sat on the council of the City Business Federation and commanded the primary Vance family fortune in the capital.
“Good,” Damon said softly, easing the pressure off Hayes’s crushed fingers.
Hayes wept into the muddy floor, his body shaking uncontrollably.
Damon stood straight, straightening his navy coat. He turned to the stunned board of the Medical University. “By tomorrow morning, Dr. Julian Hayes will be stripped of his medical license, his university tenure revoked, and his assets frozen under federal murder conspiracy charges. Does anyone here have an objection?”
Not a single soul moved. The university chancellor frantically shook his head, bowing repeatedly. “No objection, sir! None at all!”
Damon walked toward the grand exit, his dark silhouette cutting through the dazzling crystal lights. “Raymond.”
“Yes, Chairman?”
“Send a bouquet of white funeral lilies to Aunt Evelyn’s villa in the capital. Attach a note.”
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“What should the note say, sir?”
Damon’s jaw tightened. “Tell her: The dead son has come to collect his inheritance.”
