Chapter 3: The Corporate Execution
Ten minutes passed in a state of absolute, freezing tension. The private ambulance Julian had summoned arrived at the curb, two medical professionals rushing into the boutique with a rolling stretcher. Julian carefully lifted his mother onto the velvet cushions, refusing to let anyone else touch her as they applied a soothing, cold compress to her bruised face.
"Julian, honey, don't leave me," Clara whispered, her voice fragile as the medication began to settle her nerves.
"I am right behind you, Mom. Go with the doctors. I have to clean up some trash in this room, and then I will be at your bedside," he promised, kissing her forehead before the paramedics wheeled her out into the bright Beverly Hills sunshine.
The moment the ambulance doors clicked shut outside, Julian turned back around to face the interior of the boutique. The three security guards stood like statues near the entrance, their arms crossed, completely refusing to look Victoria’s way.
Victoria had managed to pull herself up onto a stool behind the counter, her face a twisted mask of venomous rage as she dabbed at her scratches with a silk napkin. "You think you're some big tech hotshot because you have a fancy phone? Do you know who owns Aurelia & Co.? We are a subsidiary of the Valois International Luxury Group! Our chairman is a multi-billionaire Lord in France! You can't buy this brand, you pathetic thug! The police are on their way right now, and I will personally ensure you are locked in a maximum-security cell by tonight!"
Right on cue, the high-end boutique's private landline phone began to ring behind the counter. It was a sharp, electronic chime that seemed to cut through the heavy scent of spilled perfume.
"Pick it up, Victoria," Julian said, crossing his arms over his chest, his posture completely relaxed, his eyes cold and empty as winter frost.
"With pleasure!" Victoria hissed, snatching the receiver from the wall terminal. "This is Victoria Vance, Managing Director. I am currently being held hostage by an aggressive—"
"Victoria, shut your mouth right this second if you ever want to work in the Western Hemisphere again."
The voice coming through the speaker didn't belong to the local police department. It belonged to Jean-Luc Valois, the seventy-two-year-old global chairman of the Valois Luxury Group, calling directly from his private chateau in Paris. His voice was vibrating with a level of terror Victoria had never heard in a human being before.
"Mr... Mr. Valois?" Victoria stammered, her hand suddenly turning cold against the plastic receiver. "Sir, a man just came into the store and committed a violent act of domestic terrorism against our display—"
"You ignorant, arrogant fool!" Jean-Luc roared through the satellite line, his French accent thick with absolute panic. "Ten minutes ago, Julian Montgomery’s holding group initiated a targeted liquidity buyout of forty-two percent of our global operational shares. He bought out our secondary debt lines through the London clearinghouse in less than three hundred seconds! As of four minutes ago, the Valois Group has officially accepted a total emergency acquisition package to prevent a catastrophic bankruptcy. Julian Montgomery doesn't just own the store you are standing in, Victoria. He owns the chair you are sitting on, the shoes on your feet, and the contract to your miserable career. You have slapped the mother of the man who now controls your entire destiny!"
The receiver slipped an inch through Victoria’s fingers. Her eyes widened into huge, horrified circles as she looked across the white marble floor at Julian, who stood there like a stone monument of pure, unadulterated power.
"Sir... I... she looked like a beggar... she had dirt on her shoes..." Victoria whispered, her voice completely breaking as her entire world collapsed into ash.
"You are fired, Victoria. Effective immediately," Jean-Luc spat through the line. "And our legal team has been instructed to hand over every single second of the store’s internal high-definition security footage to Mr. Montgomery’s private prosecution attorneys. If you ever mention the name Valois on a resume again, we will sue you into absolute homelessness. Goodbye."
The line went dead, the sharp, hollow dial tone echoing through the silent boutique like a funeral bell.
Victoria slowly hung up the phone. Her hands were shaking so violently she missed the cradle twice, the plastic clicking loudly against the marble terminal. She looked at Julian, her smug superiority completely gone, replaced by the pathetic, shivering desperation of a bully who had finally realized she had cornered a god.
She slid off the stool, her knees buckling beneath her as she fell directly onto the white marble floor she had tried so hard to protect from the old woman’s shoes. She crawled through the broken glass, her hands bleeding slightly as she reached toward Julian’s leather dress shoes.
"Mr. Montgomery... please... please forgive me!" she sobbed, the tears finally mixing with the black mascara running down her scratched cheeks. "I didn't know! I swear I didn't know who she was! I have a mortgage... I have a career to maintain! I’ll apologize to her on my knees! I’ll do whatever you want! Please don't destroy my life!"
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Julian looked down at her, his expression completely flat, completely unmoved by her theatrical display of repentance. He simply stepped backward, avoiding the touch of her bleeding fingers as if she were nothing more than oil on the water.
"You didn't care about my mother’s life when you thought she was defenseless, Victoria," Julian said, his voice echoing through the grand marble halls with the finality of a judge's gavel. "You only care now because I am dangerous. Security, throw this trash out onto the sidewalk. And make sure she leaves her designer blazer behind. She doesn't deserve to wear anything from my store."
