Chapter 4: The Final Confrontation
Three weeks later, the penthouse was empty. The furniture had been repossessed, the art sold at auction to cover the mounting legal fees, and the electricity had been cut. Marcus sat in the dark, surrounded by boxes of legal notices.
The door opened. Elena walked in. She was dressed in a sharp, navy blazer, looking every bit the woman who belonged in the halls of power, not the shadows. Marcus looked up, unkempt and broken, his face gaunt.
"You," he hissed, his voice barely a whisper. "You did this. You destroyed everything."
"You built your house on sand, Marcus," Elena said, her voice steady. "I was just the tide. You thought that because I was quiet, I was weak. You thought that because you had power, you had control. But you never understood the difference."
She walked to the window, looking out over the city. "You used people. You used me. My father just removed the obstacles."
May you like
Marcus stood up, lunging toward her, but the two shadows that followed her in—her father’s security detail—subdued him in seconds, pressing him against the cold floor. He wasn't a billionaire anymore. He was just a man who had made the mistake of thinking he could treat a Vance like a trophy.
"This is the end, Marcus," she said, not even looking back at him. "The federal agents are in the lobby. They aren't here for a negotiation. They’re here for a perp walk."
