Chapter 9 - Checkmate
The four private contractors reacted instantly, raising their weapons, but Celia was faster. With terrifying speed and precision, she fired three non-lethal disabling rounds into the tactical vests and shoulders of the front two guards, dropping them to the marble floor before they could acquire a target.
Gabriel stepped forward, disarming the remaining two guards with brutal, single-handed efficiency, kicking their dropped rifles across the polished floor.
Panic erupted among the board members. Several dropped to their knees, while the chairman scrambled backward against the wall.
“Sit down!” Adrian’s voice boomed across the room, carrying the weight of a thunderclap. Every board member froze in place, petrified.
Adrian walked slowly toward the head of the table. Every step of his wet boots squeaked against the pristine marble. He didn't look at the board members. His eyes were locked solely on Marcus, who had backed himself against the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the rainy expanse of Central Park.
“Adrian... listen to me,” Marcus stammered, raising trembling hands. “It wasn't what you think! I was being blackmailed! Delaney... Delaney threatened Clara! He threatened your nephew! I had to protect them!”
“Don't you dare speak my sister’s name with that mouth,” Adrian whispered, stopping just inches from Marcus.
Celia stepped forward, placing a sleek electronic tablet on the boardroom table and tapping the screen. A live audio-video feed materialized, showing federal prosecutors and state police executing simultaneous raid warrants on Marcus’s offshore bank accounts, his private estates, and the mercenary broker's headquarters in Virginia.
“Elena woke up an hour ago, Marcus,” Celia said, her voice dripping with ice. “She’s in protective custody with federal marshals. And she just handed over the complete, unredacted ledger of every illegal wire transfer you’ve signed for the past five years.”
Marcus’s legs gave out. He collapsed against the glass, sliding down to his knees, clutching his head in sheer disbelief. “No... no, please... Adrian, we’re family!”
Adrian looked down at him with utter disgust. “Family doesn't try to slaughter each other for stock options. You wanted my empire, Marcus. But you forgot one simple rule: you only sit on the throne if you can survive the war.”
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Adrian turned to Gabriel. “Call the Federal District Attorney. Tell them Mr. Vance is ready to confess to conspiracy, attempted murder, and corporate espionage. Hand him over with all the evidence.”
Gabriel smiled, a genuine, vicious grin. “With pleasure, Boss.”
