Chapter 7 - Midnight on Wall Street
The boardroom at Vance-Holloway Tower sat on the sixty-eighth floor, wrapped in floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooked a sea of indifferent city lights. By 2:00 AM, the building should have been empty, but the executive level was blazing. Richard Thorne, the interim chairman who had orchestrated the liquidation, was pacing before an array of digital monitors, barking orders to corporate attorneys over a speakerphone.
The double doors swung open without a knock. Thorne turned, sneering as Julian walked in. "You're late, Julian. We have a supermajority vote to bypass your veto. The sale goes through when Tokyo opens."
Then Thorne stopped, his eyes drifting toward the shadows behind Julian. Clara walked in first, her spine straight, still wearing her security badge like armor. Behind her stepped Samuel Holloway, leaning on an old ash-wood cane, wearing a clean suit jacket that was thirty years out of fashion.
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"You're dead," Thorne breathed, the color draining from his cheeks. "Samuel Holloway died in Miami twenty years ago."
"I merely stepped out of the office, Richard," Samuel said, his voice ringing with authority. "And I find you’ve let dust settle on my blueprints."
