Chapter 32 - Face to Face with the Phantom
Alexander did not flinch.
A faint, patronizing smile touched his lips as he casually leaned back in the high-backed executive leather chair.
"Still as impetuous as your father," Alexander remarked, steepling his fingers. "Arthur always let his emotions govern his intellect. That was why I outmaneuvered him thirty years ago, and that is why I hold the majority today."
Julian looked around the massive boardroom.
Several senior board members, men who had bowed to Julian only a week ago, kept their eyes glued to the table, unable to meet his gaze.
"You think you hold the majority?" Julian asked, his tone dripping with quiet disdain.
"I hold thirty percent of the voting equity through the Alpine Trust," Alexander answered smoothly, tapping the legal documents spread before him. "And with Victoria’s proxy assignment, which her lawyers executed from her federal holding cell this morning, I control fifty-one percent."
Alexander stood up, towering over the table with the aristocratic menace of a Roman emperor.
"Under Section Four of the Sterling Family Charter, any board member who brings criminal scandal or federal investigation upon the corporation forfeits their executive authority," Alexander announced, turning toward the silent board members. "Julian has brought federal marshals, cartel mercenaries, and public chaos to our doorstep."
"Tell them where those mercenaries came from, Uncle," Julian said, the word *Uncle* spoken like a curse.
"It doesn't matter where they came from," Alexander replied coldly. "The public only sees the burning estate in Malibu. They see an unstable heir who married the daughter of an embezzler."
A sharp murmur ran through the boardroom.
Alexander smiled, knowing he had struck an emotional nerve.
"Yes, gentlemen," Alexander continued, addressing the board. "Julian's new bride, Elara Brooks, is the daughter of Eleanor Brooks—the woman who stole four hundred million dollars from our European treasury in 1998."
Alexander stepped around the table, approaching Julian until they were separated by less than two feet.
"You married the daughter of a thief, Julian," Alexander whispered, his eyes gleaming with malicious triumph. "And by doing so, you compromised the genetic and financial sanctity of this bloodline."
Julian’s face remained completely impassive.
He didn't yell. He didn't raise his fist.
He simply reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled out a thin, crimson leather folder stamped with the seal of the International Criminal Court at The Hague.
Julian dropped the folder onto the mahogany table between them with a heavy thud.
"Open it," Julian commanded.
Alexander’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't move.
"Open it, Alexander," Julian repeated, "or I'll have Ross break your remaining fingers and open it for you."
Alexander slowly reached down, flicking open the crimson cover.
Inside were certified bank warrants, intercepted encrypted phone logs, and high-definition satellite surveillance photos taken three nights ago at an offshore fueling depot in Ensenada.
"That is the operational chain of custody for the surface-to-air missiles mounted on the helicopters that attacked my home," Julian said, his voice echoing across the silent hall. "Purchased through your shell company, Trident Marine, and authorized under your personal biometric key."
Alexander’s breathing slowed. The patronizing smile vanished from his lips.
"Furthermore," Julian continued, pulling a second document from his pocket, "at 9:15 this morning, the Swiss Banking Regulatory Authority froze every single account tied to the Alpine Trust."
Julian stepped forward, forcing Alexander to take a step back.
"Victoria's proxy is void," Julian stated coldly. "Because as of eight o'clock this morning, the federal prosecutor unsealed an indictment against her for treason and murder conspiracy. A felon awaiting trial cannot transfer voting shares in a publicly traded corporation."
The boardroom erupted into frantic murmurs among the lawyers.
Several board members immediately stood up, gathering their files and distancing themselves from Alexander.
"You have no shares, Alexander," Julian whispered, leaning into the older man's ear. "You have no proxy. You have no money. You are just a broke old man who should have stayed dead in the ocean."
Alexander’s jaw tightened, his gray eyes flashing with raw, homicidal hatred.
"You think you've won, boy?" Alexander hissed beneath his breath. "You think this building is your fortress?"
Alexander reached into his jacket pocket, but before his hand could emerge, Ross moved like lightning.
Ross drew his sidearm, pressing the cold muzzle of the weapon directly beneath Alexander’s chin.
"Don't even think about it," Ross whispered deadly in his ear.
Alexander slowly pulled his hand out, holding only a small black remote control with a single illuminated red toggle.
"You shouldn't have left Elara in Big Sur, Julian," Alexander whispered, a monstrous grin spreading across his face. "Did you really think I sent my main strike force to the bunker?"
Julian’s heart skipped a beat, ice instantly flooding his veins.
"What did you do?" Julian roared, grabbing Alexander by the throat and lifting him off his feet.
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"The bunker was a distraction," Alexander choked out, laughing through the compression of his windpipe. "My best team... my personal ghosts... are at Point Sur right now."
***
