Chapter 6 - The Tiger Cornered
"Turn that off! Cut the power!" Marcus screamed into his wireless lapel mic, abandoning his speech entirely as he lunged toward the AV control booth, his face twisted in a mask of murderous rage.
Flashbulbs from reporters in the back row began firing like rapid-fire artillery. Cell phones were raised in every direction, recording the unfolding catastrophe in real-time.
I stood inside the open doorway of the control booth, watching Marcus charge down the center aisle like a wounded bull. Behind him, three private security guards scrambled to follow, their hands hovering over their holstered sidearms.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm!" Marcus yelled into the microphone, trying to regain control of the room while breaking out in a visible sweat. "This is a sophisticated cyber-terrorist attack! Do not believe a word of this fabricated nonsense!"
"It's not fabricated, Marcus!"
My voice boomed unexpectedly through the overhead speakers as I stepped out from the shadows of the service wing onto the edge of the stage, holding the master transmitter in my hand.
The entire ballroom gasped. Heads whipped around in unison.
Linda shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at me. "It's him! It's Leo! He escaped!"
Marcus stopped dead in his tracks halfway down the aisle. His eyes locked onto mine, burning with pure, unadulterated venom. For a second, the polished corporate mask slipped entirely, revealing the desperate criminal underneath.
"You little bastard," Marcus hissed through gritted teeth. "You should have stayed in prison."
"And let you steal everything my father built?" I stepped forward to the edge of the stage, looking out over the sea of shocked faces—including several high-ranking city officials and judges who had spent years dining at my father's table. "You framed me for a crime I didn't commit. You tortured my father, isolated him, and tried to bury him alive on paper. But my father wasn't as weak as you thought."
"Security!" Marcus roared, pointing directly at me. "Shoot him! Arrest him! Do whatever it takes to get him off that stage!"
The three private guards drew their weapons, charging up the side stairs of the stage.
I didn't run. I stood my ground, holding up my phone, where Julian’s final override script was cued and ready.
"If you shoot me, the remaining terabytes of encrypted financial data currently hosted on my decentralized server go out to every major news outlet in the country simultaneously," I said calmly, looking the lead guard dead in the eye. "Including the names of every corrupt judge and politician in this room who took bribes from Marcus Vance."
The guards froze. They looked from me to Marcus, then back to the crowd of influential witnesses watching their every move with smartphones in hand. Lowering their weapons slowly, they backed away.
Marcus realized his empire was crumbling in real-time. Driven by blind, cornered panic, he lunged toward a security guard's holster, ripping the heavy semi-automatic pistol free.
"I'll kill you myself!" Marcus screamed, leveling the barrel directly at my chest.
The ballroom erupted into a chorus of terrified screams as guests dove under tables and scrambled for the exits.
I braced myself, knowing I was out of time, out of luck, and entirely exposed.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the back of the grand ballroom burst open with a resounding bang.
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A squad of armed federal marshals, led by a tall, familiar figure in a heavy trench coat, poured into the room, their assault rifles raised and laser sights locked squarely on Marcus Vance.
And standing right behind them, leaning heavily on a wooden cane but standing tall and proud, was my father.
