Chapter 8 - THE ULTIMATUMThe Confession Under PressurePanic rippled through the gathered elite. Donors began scrambling toward the exits, while two city councilmen hastily slipped out through a side service door, abandoning their lifelong benefactor to the wolves.
Charles Ashford looked around the room, realizing with horrifying clarity that his multi-billion-dollar empire had evaporated in less than sixty seconds. His knees buckled slightly, and he leaned heavily onto his gold-headed cane.
"You think... you think destroying me stops what's coming?" Charles wheezed, a manic, desperate grin spreading across his thin lips. "The board isn't just me, Adrian! There are men above me—men in Washington and Zurich who view human lives as line items on a quarterly ledger! If I go down, the machine doesn't stop. It just finds a new monster to feed!"
"Let them try," Adrian said coldly, stepping into Charles's personal space until he was staring down into the old man's terrified eyes. "Because starting tonight, anyone who touches a hair on Claire's head, or Sophie's head, or anyone connected to Margaret Bennett's bloodline will find out what it truly means to cross the Whitmore name."
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Charles opened his mouth to speak, but before another word could escape, a deafening CRACK echoed through the high vaulted ceiling of the opera house.
A single sniper bullet shattered the massive crystal chandelier directly above them, showering the ballroom in a lethal rain of glittering glass and steel debris.
