Chapter 2 - The Scramble for SurvivalChaos erupted instantly. The heavy silence shattered like cheap glass as whispers exploded into a deafening roar of gossip. Richard Vance lowered his glass slowly, his sharp eyes narrowing as he stared at Julian with undisguised contempt. In the corporate world, financial insolvency and moral rot were cardinal sins, and Julian had just committed both in front of his entire leadership chain.
Julian lunged forward, scrambling up the wooden steps of the DJ booth like a drowning rat clawing for a piece of driftwood.
"Clara! Clara, honey, stop! You’re making a scene, you're hysterical, let's just go inside and talk about this like adults—" he stammered, his voice cracking desperately as he reached out to grab my wrist, his fingers trembling violently.
I didn't flinch. I simply sidestepped his clumsy grasp and raised the microphone again.
"Security," I said smoothly. "Please escort Mr. Vance off the premises. He is no longer a resident, an owner, or a guest of this property."
Two burly, professional security guards—the exact ones Julian had hired to give his mid-life crisis party an aura of elite luxury—instantly stepped forward. They didn't hesitate. They were paid by the corporate account, and the corporate account answered to me. Big, heavy hands clamped down onto Julian’s tailored linen shoulders.
"Get your hands off me! Do you know who I am? I'm the birthday boy! This is my house!" Julian shrieked, thrashing against them like a spoiled toddler throwing a tantrum in a supermarket aisle.
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"Not anymore, bro," his younger brother chimed in from the edge of the crowd, his face flushed with mortification. Selina, standing right beside him, took a deliberate step backward, pulling her expensive silk skirt away from Julian as if his very presence was contagious. Rats always abandon a sinking ship first.
As they dragged Julian kicking and screaming across the lush grass toward the front gates, I lowered the microphone. The feedback shrieked one last time, dying down into a profound, suffocating quiet. I looked out over the sea of stunned, gaping faces, raised my glass of sparkling water, and offered a serene toast to the empty night.
