Chapter 9 - The Price of Treason
The manor’s grand ballroom had been hastily converted into an executive boardroom. Twelve major shareholders sat around an antique mahogany table, drinking coffee and reviewing stock redistribution contracts prepared by Richard’s lawyers.
At the head of the table, Richard’s personal legal counsel cleared his throat. ""Ladies and gentlemen, due to tragic medical complications, Mr. Edward Kane has passed away this morning. As stipulated in the revised trust—""
The double doors slammed open with the force of a thunderclap.
The entire table gasped in unison. Three board members leaped out of their seats, knocking chairs backward onto the rug.
Edward Kane strode into the room, tall, impeccably poised, with Clara at his side. Sean and two tactical guards flanked the doorway, blocking any exit.
""Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated,"" Edward announced smoothly, tossing the encrypted thumb drive onto the center of the mahogany table. It slid across the polished wood, stopping against the legal counsel's water glass.
""What is the meaning of this?"" an older shareholder gasped. ""Edward? You were in a vegetative coma!""
""I was medically poisoned by my uncle and Dr. Alan,"" Edward stated plainly. ""On that drive is complete video surveillance from my private security showing the financial wire transfers between Richard's Cayman accounts and the mechanic who cut my brake lines six months ago.""
Richard, stumbling into the room flanked by Sean’s operators, collapsed against the wall, weeping in terror. ""It’s a lie! It’s fabricated!""
""Sean,"" Edward commanded without glancing back. ""Hand the drive to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They are waiting at the front gates.""
Two uniformed federal agents entered immediately, handcuffs clicking in the quiet room. They seized Richard and Dr. Alan, dragging them down the marble stairs.
Edward turned back to the frozen boardroom. His gaze swept over the frightened directors who had planned to carve up his empire. Then, he raised Clara’s hand, the cheap brass ring glinting under the crystal chandeliers.
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""One more thing,"" Edward said, his voice echoing with absolute finality. ""Meet Clara Kane. Co-owner of Kane Enterprises and the sole reason I am breathing today. Any disrespect toward her is a declaration of war against me.""
Clara felt the weight of twelve powerful billionaires bowing their heads in deference. But as she caught Edward’s reflection in the glass window, she noticed something alarming: a thin crimson line was spreading through his white tuxedo shirt, right beneath his heart.
