Chapter 3 - The Altar of Deceit-3
"Dominic," I said, my voice carrying a freezing, absolute clarity that cut through the low hum of the server fans and the distant roar of the winter storm outside like a blade.
The entire room went dead silent. The string quartet playing near the terrace glass froze their bows inches above the strings, their faces pale with shock. Dominic’s hand trembled so violently the crystal champagne flute slipped from his fingers, shattering into a thousand tiny shards against the polished marble floor tiles. The sparkling wine puddled around his Italian leather shoes, soaking into the expensive silk rug he had purchased using our joint domestic expense account last month.
"Vivienne?" Dominic stammered, his voice losing its smooth, authoritative cadence, cracking into a jagged, breathless tremor of pure corporate panic. He took a hesitant, clumsy step toward the elevator threshold, his arms extended in a fake, desperate gesture of peace. "What are you doing here? You... you shouldn't be on this floor. The security staff was ordered to keep the registration lists clean for the executive families."
"I am the legal owner of the ground you're standing on, Dominic," I said, walking slowly down the center aisle of the lounge block, my combat boots leaving wet, muddy tracks across his pristine white silk runner. I stopped just three feet from his position, looking down into his ruined face with a profound, clinical detachment. "The 'wife' your secretary Chloe was talking about downstairs... I assume she was referencing Julianna Vance, the daughter of Senator Thomas Vance."
Julianna Vance took a sharp, aggressive step forward from his shoulder, her diamond earrings catching the cool blue light of the monitors. "Who is this woman, Dominic? Tell your security team to have her hauled out of this pavilion immediately! We are in the middle of a multi-million-dollar funding closing with the maritime authority!"
"She can't call the security team, Julianna," my third brother, Victor Sterling, said, stepping out from the private executive elevator suite behind me. He was dressed in a sharp, tailored black wool trench coat, his gold federal badge clipped to his lapel, followed by a full platoon of military police and state investigative units whose rifle barrels were raised to the low-ready position.
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The color drained from Julianna’s face so rapidly it looked as though she had been struck by an invisible fist. She fell back against the fireplace mantle, her hands clawing at her pearls for support as she recognized the silver eagle insignia on Victor’s collar.
"The Vance Financial Group... the offshore shell firm you established in Nicosia, Cyprus, to launder the riverfront grant capital, Dominic..." Victor explained ruthlessly, sliding a thick leather evidence folder across the central boardroom table. "Every transaction, every bank ledger, and every single forged signature token you used to siphon capital from Vivienne’s ancestral family trust... it’s all been processed under a federal RICO mandate as of ten minutes ago. You don't have a company left to close, Dominic. The pipeline is smashed."
