Chapter 3: The Purge of the Pariahs
Within twenty minutes, the penthouse was under total lockdown. Not by the police, but by Arthur Vance’s private security—a force more powerful than any state agency. Marcus and Serena were zip-tied and sitting on the very floor where they had intended to humiliate Clara.
"You’re finished," Clara said, walking around them like a predator circling prey. "And I don't mean just this company. I mean your names. Your reputations. Your existence in polite society."
She gestured to the agents. "Take them. Not to the police, but to the holding facility. Let them experience what it’s like to be truly powerless."
May you like
As they were dragged out, Serena screamed, clawing at the expensive carpet. "You can't do this! We have lawyers! We have contacts!"
Clara knelt beside her, picking up a shard of the broken champagne flute. "You have nothing. In exactly ten minutes, the bank will freeze every account you’ve ever touched. By morning, the press will have the full dossier of your embezzlement, your blackmail, and your failed attempt to stage a coup. The 'Sterling' name is no longer yours to use. You are going to be bankrupt, forgotten, and erased."
