Chapter 8 - Past the Threshold
The distraction lasted barely five seconds, but it was all the window we needed. While the guards rounded the far corner with flashlights drawn, Marcus and I dashed across the plush wool carpet of the executive foyer. I reached the heavy mahogany doors of the boardroom first, grabbing the brass handle and twisting it silently. To my surprise, it gave way without resistance. The heavy latch hadn't been fully secured from the inside.
I slipped through the gap into the quiet, high-ceilinged room before Marcus pulled the door shut behind us, leaving us standing in the dim light of the expansive chamber. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows wrapped around the perimeter of the room, offering a panoramic, overcast view of the city skyline that stretched out beneath the heavy gray clouds. At the far end of the long conference table sat Julian, flanked by two unfamiliar corporate attorneys. Standing at the head of the table was Arthur Vance, his tailored suit immaculate, a smug, triumphant smile playing across his lips as he reviewed a thick stack of papers.
Julian looked up instantly, his gaze locking onto mine with a mixture of profound shock and blazing intensity. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and his jaw was set like iron, but the sight of him uninjured and breathing washed away half the terror that had gripped my chest since yesterday.
"You shouldn't be here, Clara," Vance said smoothly, not even bothering to look around as he folded his hands over the mahogany surface. "Your little stunt in the penthouse was dramatic, but it didn't change the math. The board is about to ratify the restructuring agreement. Mr. Vance's signature—and yours, once we amend the affidavit—will make these accounts entirely legal under retroactive audit rules."
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"It's over, Arthur," Julian's voice cut through the large room like a whip, cold and absolute. He stood up slowly from his chair, pushing back against the mahogany table with a force that made the water glasses rattle. "The audit logs are already in federal hands. You don't have an exit strategy anymore; you have an indictment."
Vance laughed, a short, dry sound lacking any real humor, though a flicker of genuine panic crossed his eyes before he masked it with arrogant amusement. "You think some anonymous digital files will save you? Without the signed confession from your little partner here, the board's vote stands."
