Chapter 7 - THE GRAND BALLROOM AMBUSHCrystal chandeliers gleamed brilliantly inside the Grand Meridian Ballroom, casting diamond-like reflections across the floor where hundreds of elite business tycoons, politicians, and journalists mingled, sipping vintage champagne.
At the center stage stood David Vance, impeccably dressed in a custom Brioni tuxedo, holding a glass of champagne as he addressed the enraptured crowd through the wireless microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," David smiled, projecting a picture of charisma and grief. "We have all endured a dark period of turbulence under my aunt's erratic leadership. But tonight, as we turn the page, I pledge to restore stability, integrity, and record-breaking growth to Vance Global..."
Before David could finish his sentence, the heavy mahogany double doors at the back of the ballroom slammed open with a deafening BANG.
The music cut off instantly. Two hundred pairs of eyes turned in unison toward the entrance.
Striding down the center aisle with absolute authority was Daniel Vance, flanked by Marcus and four federal marshals in full tactical gear. Behind them, live-streaming cameras projected Daniel’s face onto the massive LED screens flanking the stage.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Whispers erupted like wildfire. “Isn’t that Daniel Vance? The dead felon? The one who drove off the cliff?”
David froze mid-sentence, the champagne glass slipping from his fingers and shattering against the marble stage floor. Color drained completely from his face, leaving him looking like a corpse.
"D-Daniel?" David stammered into the microphone, his voice echoing nervously across the silent hall. "How... how are you...?"
Daniel stopped right at the foot of the stage, looking up at his cousin with eyes as cold as winter ice.
"Surprised to see me, cousin?" Daniel’s voice boomed through the hall’s high-end sound system, rich, powerful, and utterly commanding. "Did you really think a little cliffside accident orchestrated by your aunt was going to get rid of me?"
David gripped the edges of the podium, his knuckles turning white. "You’re out of your mind! Security! Remove this lunatic from the premises immediately!"
"Security won't help you here, David," Daniel said smoothly, taking a slow step up the stairs. "Because the federal marshals behind me aren't here as guests. They’re here on a warrant."
May you like
Marcus stepped forward, tossing a thick stack of printed financial documents onto the podium right in front of David’s trembling hands.
"Embezzlement of four billion dollars, conspiracy to commit corporate murder, and falsification of medical records," Marcus announced clearly for every microphone in the room to record. "Shall we read the rest, David, or would you prefer to confess on live television?"
