Chapter 12 - The Ultimatum
Detective Miller grabbed my elbow, his grip firm but professional, guiding me swiftly through the secondary service exit before Marcus could close the distance across the polished parquet floor. We slipped into a small, windowless private salon off the main ballroom—a quiet room usually reserved for VIPs to make private phone calls or review gala programs. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind us, cutting off the muffled strains of classical music and the low hum of hundreds of overlapping conversations.
"We don't have much time," Miller said, dropping the manila folder onto a small mahogany side table. He flipped it open, revealing blown-up photographic prints of the shattered glass table, alongside detailed digital architecture charts and financial ledger printouts. "Your husband thinks he's successfully managed the narrative, but his foundation accounts were frozen by a federal judge an hour ago. The money he stole from the endowment didn't just disappear into an offshore account; it was used to buy silence from several key board members who threatened to expose his embezzlement."
I stared down at the documents, the abstract horror of Marcus's corporate crimes suddenly crystallizing into hard, undeniable paper evidence. "He told me I would take the fall if I said a single word," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as the full weight of the past week pressed down on my chest. "He set up the entire scenario in the dining room, knowing Person B was coming to confront him with the physical audits. He wanted me to be trapped in the room when it happened so the security camera would frame me as the aggressor."
"The camera recorded more than he bargained for," Miller replied, pulling a small audio recorder from his pocket and placing it on the table. "Julian managed to route an unedited copy of the local node's master feed directly to our precinct server fifteen minutes ago. We have video of Marcus entering the dining room right after Person B fell, deliberately wiping down the secondary surfaces and tampering with the lens housing before you even had time to catch your breath."
The door behind us suddenly rattled violently, the brass handle shaking as someone threw their full weight against the wood. Before Miller could draw his weapon, the lock gave way with a sharp crack, and the heavy door swung open. Marcus stood in the threshold, his tuxedo jacket slightly rumpled, his face dark with suppressed rage. Flanking him were two large, imposing private security guards in plain black suits, their hands resting heavily at their sides.
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"Detective Miller," Marcus said, his voice dripping with venomous calm as he stepped into the cramped salon, effectively blocking the only exit. "You're trespassing in a private VIP holding area without a warrant, and you're harassing my wife. I suggest you step away from her immediately, or I'll have my legal team file an injunction that will strip you of your badge before midnight."
Miller didn't flinch. He stood his ground between Marcus and me, his hand resting casually near his service weapon. "Your legal team doesn't have jurisdiction here anymore, Mr. Vance. We have a federal warrant for your arrest on charges of embezzlement, evidence tampering, and the attempted murder of an unindicted witness."
