Chapter 6 - The Summit
The grand ballroom of the Four Seasons was packed with the most powerful people on the eastern seaboard. Investors, politicians, and media moguls sat at round tables, drinking champagne and waiting for the Queen of the Empire to speak.
At the front of the room, Beatrice Sterling stood behind a crystal podium, bathed in the glow of a massive projector screen. Victoria sat in the front row, looking pale and withdrawn, dressed in a somber black dress.
"For forty years, Sterling Holdings has built the future," Beatrice projected, her voice commanding and steady, echoing through the sound system. "And today, with our expansion into the Asian markets, we solidify our legacy as the undisputed leaders in modern architecture."
The room erupted into applause.
At the back of the room, the heavy mahogany double doors burst open. The loud crack echoed like a gunshot over the applause, silencing the room instantly.
Julian Hayes walked in.
He wasn't wearing a rented tuxedo or a cheap polyester suit. He was wearing a meticulously tailored charcoal three-piece suit bought on Marcus Vance’s line of credit. He walked with the posture of a king reclaiming his castle. Flanking him was Marcus Vance and a team of four junior litigators, all carrying heavy leather briefcases.
Beatrice’s eyes locked onto Julian. For a fraction of a second, the ice queen faltered.
"Security," Beatrice snapped into the microphone. "Remove this man immediately."
Two massive security guards in black suits stepped into the aisle, blocking Julian’s path.
"I wouldn't do that," Marcus Vance’s voice boomed through the quiet room as he stepped forward, holding up a thick legal injunction. "Unless Sterling Holdings wants to add federal assault charges to their impending indictments for corporate fraud and grand larceny."
The word fraud rippled through the ballroom like electricity. Cell phones began to buzz. Reporters in the back rows frantically pulled out their recording devices.
"What is the meaning of this, Marcus?" a board member yelled from the front row.
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Julian bypassed the security guards, who hesitated at the sight of the legal documents. He walked straight down the center aisle, his eyes fixed on Beatrice. Victoria stared at him, her mouth slightly open in shock.
"The meaning," Julian said, his voice carrying clearly through the silent, massive room, "is that Beatrice Sterling is a thief. And I am here to collect my rent."
