Chapter 3: The Turning Tide
The room was in chaos. Some of the guests, realizing their own names were flashing on the screens alongside Julian’s, began to weep. Others started arguing, turning on each other. The veneer of civilization had completely peeled away.
Julian realized he was truly alone. Even his "friends," the ones who had laughed when he grabbed my arm, were now distancing themselves. They weren't protecting him anymore; they were saving themselves.
"Please," Julian whispered, his voice cracking. "Let's talk about this. I can give you money. Whatever you want. Millions. Just open the door."
I looked at him, feeling nothing but profound contempt. "You think everything has a price tag. That’s your second fatal mistake."
He lunged for me—a desperate, clumsy grab. But before his fingers could graze my arm, a wall panel slid open. Four men in tactical gear, their faces obscured by matte-black visors, stepped out. They didn't move like security guards; they moved like ghosts.
They pinned Julian to the marble floor in seconds. The sound of his expensive watch shattering against the stone was the only noise in the room.
"Get off me! Do you know who I am?" he shrieked, face pressed against the floor.
"We know exactly who you are," one of the men replied, his voice calm and professional. "And we know exactly what you’ve done."
I walked over to the men and nodded. "Bring him to the secure holding cell in the basement. I want his access to the outside world completely severed."
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As they dragged him away, the ballroom went deathly quiet. I turned to the remaining guests—the politicians, the judges, the tycoons.
"The doors will remain locked," I announced, my voice echoing. "Until the police arrive. You are all currently in a crime scene. I suggest you sit down, stay quiet, and wait for your handcuffs."
