Chapter 4 - The Ticking Clock
"Is there a problem, Sarah?" Chairman Harrison asked, stepping closer to the desk, his voice laced with subtle impatience. "It's a straightforward transfer. Your husband’s firm will manage the assets. You won't have to worry about a thing."
"She’s just overwhelmed," Beatrice cut in smoothly, placing her sharp hands on my shoulders. "She’s never had an eye for business."
"Give her a second," Vance growled, his grip on the back of my neck tightening until his nails bit into my skin. "Sign page twelve, Sarah. Now."
I stared down at the crisp paper. The tip of the Montblanc pen hovered a millimeter above the signature line.
I needed to delay them. Just two minutes.
"I... I can't read this line," I whispered, pointing to a small clause at the bottom of the page. My voice was intentionally shaky, playing right into their perception of me as a weak, terrified victim. "It says... 'In the event of physical incapacitation or death, all secondary rights revert to Vance Holding Corporation.' What does that mean?"
Arthur let out an irritated sigh, pacing toward the window. "It's standard boilerplate language, Sarah! Don't be tedious. Just sign the damn paper so we can get back to our guests."
"No," I said, leaning back against the leather chair and deliberately dropping the pen onto the desk. It rolled across the mahogany wood, dropping onto the carpet. "I want my own legal counsel to review page fourteen."
The temperature in the room plummeted.
Vance snapped. He grabbed me by the front of my green silk dress, hauling me out of the chair so fast my knees knocked against the oak desk.
"You arrogant little bitch," he spat, his eyes wide and bloodshot as he shoved me back against the heavy bookshelf. "You think you have a choice here?! You sign where we tell you to sign, or I swear to God I'll drag you back up to that bathroom and finish what I started!"
Harrison didn't even blink. He simply turned his back, looking out the window as if Vance’s violence were nothing more than routine procedure.
"Vance, control your wife," Arthur warned coldly. "Keep your voice down. The board members are right outside."
"She's signing it," Vance snarled, reaching down to grab the pen off the floor. He jammed it violently into my right hand, bending my fingers around the barrel until my knuckles cracked. "Sign it!"
I looked at Vance. For six years, those eyes had terrified me. For six years, his voice had made my blood run cold. But right now, looking at the sweaty, desperate rage masking his face, I didn't feel fear anymore.
I felt pure, unadulterated contempt.
"No," I whispered directly into his face.
Vance raised his hand, his heavy palm pulled back to strike across my damaged cheek.
BOOM!
The sudden, deafening explosion shook the entire house.
The heavy glass windows of the study shattered inward in a shower of silver dust as the shockwave rattled the floorboards. The lights cut out instantly, plunging the mansion into pitch blackness.
Screams erupted from the grand foyer outside as panic swept through the dinner party guests.
"What the hell was that?!" Arthur shouted, stumbling backward into his desk.
BOOM! BOOM!
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Two more flashbang detonations echoed from the front courtyard, followed by the terrifying, mechanical roar of heavy tactical engines breaching the perimeter security gates.
"Federal agents! Down on the floor! Nobody move!"
