Chapter 8 - Crashing the Party
The ballroom went dead silent when I walked in. The string quartet missed a note. Conversations abruptly halted. All eyes turned to the "deranged vigilante" who had dared to show his face.
I spotted Richard Vance holding court near the ice sculpture, a crystal glass of champagne in his hand. Julian was beside him, looking distinctly uncomfortable.
I walked straight toward them. The crowd naturally formed a wide circle around us, anticipating a bloodbath.
"Elias," Richard Vance said smoothly, recovering his composure. He was an older man, silver hair, predatory eyes. "I'm surprised security let you in. Given your recent... violent outbursts."
"I own the security company that staffs this building, Richard," I replied, loud enough for the reporters lingering on the edge of the circle to hear. "I can have you escorted out, but I’d rather humiliate you publicly."
Richard chuckled, though his eyes were completely dead. "Big words from a man who is going to lose his company tomorrow morning."
"I wouldn't be so sure," I said. I snapped my fingers. From the crowd, a sweating, pale Thomas Sterling stepped forward. He looked like he was marching to his own execution.
"Thomas?" Richard frowned, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. "What is this?"
May you like
Sterling cleared his throat, avoiding Richard's gaze. "Richard... the deal is off. I've informed the board of our... financial arrangements. I am resigning my seat effective immediately, and turning all documentation over to the SEC."
The silence in the room was absolute. You could hear a pin drop.
