Chapter 6 - Unraveling the Theft
By Saturday evening, the house was operating under a new, terrifying law of gravity: Alexander’s absolute authority.
In the ground-floor security office, Julian Vance sat sweating in his leather chair as Alexander tossed a printed security audit report onto his desk.
“Care to explain why your private contractor accessed the staff lockers at 3:14 AM on Thursday to plant a family heirloom?” Alexander asked, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest.
Julian swallowed hard, attempting a weak chuckle. “Mr. Whitmore, surely you don't believe—it must have been a mistake, an inventory check gone wrong—"
“It was recorded on three separate cameras, Julian,” Alexander said flatly. “Which means you have two choices. You can resign right now, forfeit your pension, and walk out that front door into the rain. Or I can hand this evidence over to the Metropolitan Police, and you can explain to a judge why you conspired with my mother to commit perjury and grand larceny.”
Julian stared at Alexander for three long seconds. He saw the cold, immovable resolve in the billionaire’s eyes—the same look that had crushed corporate competitors across Wall Street and Canary Wharf.
Slowly, Julian reached out, pulled his leather briefcase off the floor, and placed it on his lap. He didn't say a word. He just opened the clasp, pulled out his security badge, and laid it face-down on the desk.
“You’re making a grave mistake, Alexander,” Julian muttered, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. “Your mother built this empire. You’re burning it down for a stranger.”
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“Get out of my house,” Alexander replied.
Without another word, the lawyer turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing down the corridor until the heavy front door clicked shut.
