Chapter 18 - Checkmate in the Gallery
Marcus Thorne stepped forward, extending a hand wrapped in a bespoke Italian suit sleeve, his voice dripping with false civility that barely masked his underlying rage. "Mrs. Russo, what an unexpected pleasure. I honestly didn't expect a supply chain manager to appreciate fine art—or high-stakes maritime logistics."
Khloe didn't take his outstretched hand. Instead, she stopped inches away, her dark eyes flashing with lethal calm. She tilted her head, her voice carrying effortlessly across the hushed gallery, drawing the breathless attention of every elite guest within earshot. "And I didn't expect a British shipping tycoon to rely on amateurish clerical errors and fraudulent manifests to smuggle restricted hardware, Mr. Thorne. But then again, desperation often lowers one's standards in a competitive market."
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Thorne’s face drained of color, the forced smile vanishing completely from his lips as the sheer humiliation burned in his chest. Before he could sputter a defensive reply, Victor stepped forward, his towering presence casting a chilling shadow over the Englishman. Victor leaned down slightly, his voice dropping into a low, velvet whisper meant exclusively for Thorne's ears: "Your cargo is permanently seized, your front companies are currently being audited by federal prosecutors, and if you ever look in my wife's direction again, you won't live to see the sunrise."
Without waiting for a response, Victor turned on his heel, guiding a triumphant Khloe away from the paralyzed billionaire as the museum’s terrified elite parted like the Red Sea. They had come to watch a confrontation, but they had witnessed an absolute execution.
