Chapter 11 - THE SHADOW ON THE CATWALK
The harsh glare of the industrial floodlights burned into Julian’s eyes. Down in the damp concrete basement, the air felt freezing, heavy with the scent of old motor oil and decades of buried corruption.
"Step away from the safe, Julian," Victor commanded from the iron catwalk above, his polished mahogany walking stick clicking rhythmically against the metal railing. "And hand that binder to Vance."
Beside Victor, Vance—his scar-faced head of security—stepped forward, leveling a silenced submachine gun directly at Elowen's chest.
Julian didn't flinch. He shifted his broad frame to shield his mother, clutching the heavy blue binder tightly against his ribs. His voice dropped into a low, lethal growl that echoed off the damp concrete walls.
"You murdered my father," Julian said, the realization burning through twenty-five years of engineered lies. "You poisoned him in his own office, put his body in a car, and pushed it off a cliff."
Victor let out a soft, dismissive sigh, resting both hands on the handle of his cane. "Arthur was weak, Julian. He was going to dismantle Thorne Global because his fragile conscience couldn't handle the realities of global trade. I saved the family name. I built the empire you enjoy today. Everything you are—your education, your executive title, your status—was paid for by the decisions I made that night."
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"You didn't build an empire, Victor," Elowen called out from behind her son, her voice shaking with righteous fury. "You built a cage made of blood and stolen lives."
Victor’s calm demeanor cracked for a fraction of a second, his eyes flashing with cold disgust. "Vance. Retrieve the binder. Kill the woman. We’ll present Julian to the board tomorrow as a grieving nephew who suffered a mental breakdown."
