Chapter 8 - THE DESPERATE GAMBITDavid’s breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. He looked around the ballroom; every single journalist had their camera lenses pointed directly at his face. The elite business partners who had smiled at him moments ago were now backing away slowly, whispering among themselves, distancing themselves from a sinking ship.
Realizing his empire had completely crumbled in a matter of seconds, David’s mask of calm sophistication snapped entirely. A wild, maniacal look crossed his features.
"You think you’ve won?!" David shrieked, his voice cracking with hysteria as he reached inside his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a sleek, black 9mm Beretta pistol, pointing it directly at Daniel’s chest.
A collective scream echoed through the ballroom as guests ducked beneath tables, scrambling for the exits in absolute panic.
Daniel didn’t even flinch. He stood tall, hands casually slipped into his trouser pockets, staring down the barrel of the gun as if it were a toy.
"Go ahead, David," Daniel said, taking another step closer. "Pull the trigger. Every single security camera in this room is broadcasting live to every federal agency and news outlet in the country. The moment you kill me, the dead-man switch releases all your offshore account passwords to the public. You’ll spend the rest of your miserable life in a maximum-security supermax cell, completely penniless."
David’s hand shook violently. The heavy pistol wavered back and forth between Daniel’s head and the ceiling. Sweat poured down his face, dripping off his chin.
"I hate you!" David sobbed, his voice breaking into a pathetic whine. "My whole life, I lived in your shadow! My father was a servant, and you were the golden heir! It wasn't fair!"
"Life isn't fair, David," Daniel whispered, closing the remaining distance between them in a flash.
Before David could react, Daniel lashed out with blinding speed, striking David’s wrist with a sharp, calculated karate chop. The pistol flew out of David’s hand, clattering harmlessly across the marble floor.
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Marcus lunged forward, tackling David over the podium and slamming him hard against the stage floor, snapping the steel handcuffs onto his wrists with practiced precision.
"You have the right to remain silent," Marcus muttered into David’s ear as he hauled the sobbing man to his feet.
