Chapter 10 - The Fall of the King
Fifteen minutes later, the executive lounge on the top floor of the St. Jude Medical Tower was filled with the smell of expensive espresso.
Julian Sterling sat on the leather sofa, his legs crossed, reviewing a draft of a custody decree on his iPad. His attorney sat beside him, packing away the legal briefs.
"Once we have the death certificates for the infants, Julian," the lawyer was saying in a low whisper, "the probate court will release the trust assets directly to the sole remaining executor. That’s you. We can be back in Chicago before the local authorities even finish their preliminary reports."
Julian smiled, taking a sip from his porcelain cup. "Efficiency, Arthur. That’s why I pay you four figures an hour."
The door to the lounge swung open.
Julian didn't look up. "Did Victor finish the arrangements?"
"Victor is currently being processed into the county jail for attempted murder, kidnapping, and domestic terrorism," a deep voice boomed across the room.
Julian froze, the coffee cup halting halfway to his mouth.
Sheriff Marcus Hayes walked in, flanked by four heavily armed State Troopers in tactical gear. Behind them, Dr. Elena Vance walked in, a strip of surgical tape covering the cut on her cheek, holding a manila evidence envelope.
Julian slowly set his coffee cup down, his aristocratic mask snapping back into place.
"Sheriff. What is the meaning of this theater?" Julian asked, scoffing. "If my security personnel had a misunderstanding with your deputies—"
"It wasn't a misunderstanding, Julian," Marcus said, tossing a set of photographs onto the glass table.
They were high-resolution images from the state crime lab.
One showed the brass padlock covered in fingerprint dusting powder.
The other showed a close-up of Victor Vance's left hand—specifically, the silver ring with the wolf head, and the clear, partial latent bloody print lifted from the lock's cylinder.
"Your boy Victor just gave a full confession on audio recording," Marcus said, crossing his arms. "Turned out he wasn't too keen on taking the death penalty alone. He told us about the wire transfers from your offshore account in the Caymans. He told us about the encrypted emails instructing him to 'ensure the winter takes care of the problem.' And he handed over the original copy of your father’s real will."
Julian’s face went utterly, completely bloodless.
"That's a lie," Julian whispered, his voice cracking for the first time. "He's a rogue contractor. He acted on his own!"
Arthur, the high-priced attorney, took one look at the photographs, snapped his briefcase shut, and took three steps away from Julian.
"Arthur?" Julian gasped, looking at his legal counsel in horror. "Do something! File the injunction!"
"I am withdrawing as your counsel effective immediately, Mr. Sterling," Arthur said coldly, keeping his eyes on the floor. "I do not represent clients involved in capital murder conspiracies."
"You coward!" Julian shrieked, jumping to his feet.
Before he could take another step, two state troopers grabbed him by the arms, forcing him face-down onto the glass table.
Marcus stepped forward, pulling Julian's arms behind his back and clicking the cold steel cuffs into place.
"Julian Sterling," Marcus recited with immense, poetic pleasure, "you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit capital murder, felony child endangerment, tampering with evidence, and extortion. You have the right to remain silent..."
As Julian was hauled out of the lounge, screaming curses and threats down the hallway, the nurses, doctors, and patients in the corridor paused to watch.
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The great billionaire, the untouchable titan of Chicago industry, was being dragged out in handcuffs like a common dog, his expensive suit wrinkled, his legacy shattered forever.
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