Chapter 8 - THE PRODIGAL’S RETURNThe annual Morgan Global Gala was underway in the grand ballroom of the Gilded Spoon. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, champagne flutes chimed, and elite investors in custom tuxedos mingled beneath banners bearing the Morgan crest.
Marcus Vance stood near the dais, speaking quietly into a smartphone, his expression an inscrutable mask of corporate composure. "Clean up the railway depot. I want no witnesses. And make sure the media narrative labels Morgan's disappearance as a sudden family emergency."
Suddenly, the heavy mahogany double doors at the entrance of the ballroom swung wide open.
The murmurs and laughter died instantly. The orchestra conductor’s baton froze mid-air.
Walking down the center aisle was Richard Morgan. His Italian suit was torn and stained with soot and dried blood. A dark gash marked his forehead. Flanking him on his left was ten-year-old Michael, standing tall with a look of fierce determination. On his right walked an old woman leaning on a cane, and carried securely in Richard's arms was little Lily, wrapped in a blanket.
The room erupted into shocked whispers.
"Security!" Marcus shouted, his voice cracking slightly as he stepped forward onto the dais. "Remove this vagrant and these street children immediately! Mr. Morgan is not himself tonight—"
"Shut your mouth, Marcus," Richard’s voice rang out, carrying across the silent ballroom with the icy authority of a judge passing a death sentence.
Richard marched straight toward the stage, ignoring the gasps of the wealthy patrons. He reached the base of the dais, pulled a heavy data drive from his pocket, and tossed it onto the glass podium where the keynote speech was displayed.
"You’ve been managing my father’s offshore accounts for twenty years, Marcus," Richard said, stepping up the stairs until he stood face-to-face with his chief counsel. "You helped him cover up the abduction of my sister Helen. And tonight, you ordered a hit on my son in my own restaurant."
Marcus laughed, though a bead of sweat rolled down his immaculate temple. "Have you lost your mind? Look at yourself! You're rambling like a lunatic. Security, escort him out!"
None of the security guards moved. They had seen the look in Richard's eyes—the look of a man who had nothing left to lose and everything to avenge.
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"I didn't lose my mind, Marcus," Richard said softly, stepping closer until he was inches away. "I just found my family."
With a sudden, violent movement, Richard grabbed the microphone from the podium, amplified his voice across the entire hall, and plugged Rose’s master data drive into the main ballroom projection system.
