Chapter 7: The Trading Floor Meltdown
Stripped of his wealth, his credit cards, and his executive status, Julian wandered aimlessly through the bustling financial district of downtown Manhattan. Desperation and sheer denial drove him straight to the New York Stock Exchange, where the ticker symbol for Sterling Enterprises was about to be permanently delisted. Security guards at the front entrance recognized his face immediately, crossing their arms and blocking him from entering the building.
"Let me in! I am still the rightful vice president of this institution, and I demand to speak with the floor manager!" Julian screamed hysterically. A small crowd of pedestrians and reporters gathered quickly around the steps, raising their smartphones to record his pathetic, unhinged public meltdown. Julian's hair was messy, his tie was loosened, and his expensive suit looked like it hadn't been pressed in days.
"Mr. Sterling, your company was dissolved an hour ago, and you are officially trespassed from these premises," the head security guard warned coldly. Snapping under the unbearable weight of public humiliation, Julian lunged forward, grabbing the security guard by the lapels of his uniform. The surrounding police officers reacted instantly, tackling Julian violently onto the concrete steps of the exchange.
Heavy steel handcuffs were slapped onto his wrists with a harsh, final snap as he thrashed and screamed obscenities into the pavement. Camera shutters flashed blindingly from every angle, capturing the exact moment the golden boy of Wall Street hit rock bottom in front of the entire country. It was the ultimate poetic justice, mirroring the exact night he had violently shoved Evelyn into the champagne tower months ago.
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He was hauled away in the back of a police cruiser, his cries echoing down Wall Street as commuters watched with cold indifference. The system he had manipulated for so long had finally chewed him up and spit him out into the gutter where he truly belonged. There were no bail bondsmen willing to answer his calls, and no influential friends left to pull strings in the shadows.
Rain lashed against the towering glass windows of the luxury penthouse where the final reckoning between the fallen aristocrats and their master executor unfolded.
