Chapter 7 - THE TOWER OF LIESThe 80th floor of Vance Tower was a palace of glass, chrome, and mahogany, suspended high above the glittering grid of Chicago.
Inside the grand boardroom, sixteen executives and board members sat around a massive oval table. At the head of the table sat Richard Vance, wearing a grey three-piece suit, sipping scotch from a crystal glass that looked identical to the one that had broken at the Gilded Spoon earlier that day.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Richard said, his voice echoing through the acoustics of the room. “It is with deep sadness that I inform you of the tragic passing of my nephew, Gabriel, and his daughter, Maya. They were killed in a horrific explosion in the lower Loop earlier tonight.”
A collective gasp rippled through the board members.
“Because of this tragedy,” Richard continued, pulling a stack of legal documents from his leather briefcase, “the complete controlling share of Vance Enterprises defaults to me, as senior living heir. I ask you to sign these emergency transition papers immediately so we can stabilize our stock price before the markets open tomorrow.”
He slid the papers across the polished table.
Before the first board member could take out a pen, the floor-to-ceiling glass windows at the far end of the room blew inward in a deafening shower of safety glass.
BOOM!
High-power wind rushed into the 80th-floor boardroom, sending thousands of legal papers flying through the air like snow.
A heavy tactical assault cable dropped from the ceiling above. Swinging through the broken frame, feet first, came Gabriel Vance.
He hit the mahogany table, sliding across its polished surface, scattering glasses and water carafes before landing on his feet right at the head of the table.
In his hand was a heavy black ledger.
Behind him, two tactical teams secured the balcony doors. I stepped through the broken frame right behind Gabriel, holding a tablet connected directly to the city’s federal prosecutor’s office.
The board members screamed, scrambling out of their leather chairs.
Richard dropped his glass of scotch. It shattered on the floor.
“Gabriel...” Richard stuttered, his face draining of all color. “You’re... you’re supposed to be dead!”
“I know you wished I was, Uncle,” Gabriel said, his voice carrying like thunder over the sound of the wind rushing into the room. “Just like you wished my wife was dead ten years ago.”
“That’s absurd!” Richard shouted, looking around at the terrified board members. “He’s insane! Security! Get security up here!”
“Security isn't coming, Richard,” I said, stepping forward and tapping the tablet screen.
A high-definition video began playing on the giant presentation screens surrounding the boardroom.
It was Gavin.
He was sitting in a federal interrogation room, covered in bandages, spilling every single detail of the deal. The audio echoed clearly across the room:
“Richard Vance paid me fifty thousand dollars as a deposit... he told me to mark the girl’s father... he leaked the coordinates to the Sokolovs... he was going to split the liquid assets of the company with the Bratva after Gabriel was killed...”
The board members turned to stare at Richard in complete horror.
“That video is a fake! A digital fabrication!” Richard roared, reaching into his jacket for his firearm.
Before his hand could clear his holster, Gabriel stepped forward and grabbed Richard’s wrist, twisting it until the bone popped.
Richard screamed in agony, falling to his knees as his gun clattered across the floor.
Gabriel pulled a set of steel handcuffs from his belt and slammed his uncle’s wrists together.
“You didn't just commit treason against this family, Richard,” Gabriel whispered into his uncle’s ear. “You broke the one rule my father left us with. You brought violence to a child.”
The double doors of the boardroom burst open.
Federal agents, led by two armed marshals, rushed into the room with their badges drawn.
“Richard Vance!” the lead agent shouted. “You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, high treason, and racketeering!”
As the agents dragged Richard toward the exit, he turned his head, staring at me with pure venom.
“You...” Richard spat, his voice filled with hatred. “You were just a waitress! You were nothing!”
May you like
I stood tall, looking him dead in the eye.
“I was a waitress,” I said calmly. “But tonight, I’m the person who put you in a cage.”
