Chapter 2 - The Sanctum of Glass
Grant’s tongue protruded slightly from his lips as he clawed at Arthur’s grip, his chest heaving for air that wouldn't come.
"I'm... sorry..." Grant gasped out, the words barely a rasp. "Please... Mr. Vance... don't..."
Arthur’s eyes remained completely unblinking. "I asked you a question. Why is my daughter bleeding?"
"She... she fell!" Grant lied desperately, tears streaming down his face as terror finally shattered his pride. "She lost her balance on the floor! I swear to God, I didn't mean to—"
Arthur dropped him.
Grant hit the hard stone porch like a sack of wet flour, coughing violently and clutching his bruised throat, gasping for air as he curled into a pathetic ball.
Arthur took a crisp, white silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and deliberately wiped his fingers, as if touching Grant had contaminated him with something filthy. He tossed the stained handkerchief onto Grant’s chest.
"A lie," Arthur said softly. "You hit her. Six times. The blood on her face matches the pattern of your signet ring."
Arthur turned his head toward Marco, who had returned from securing Claire in the SUV.
"Clear the house," Arthur ordered flatly. "Take every document, every hard drive, every ledger, and every piece of financial record in this building. Grant’s firm, Miller Capital, operates on loans provided by shell companies owned by my holdings. By midnight, I want every asset he owns frozen. Every credit line canceled. Every bank account seized."
"Right away, Boss," Marco replied, motioning for six armed men to sweep past the trembling Grant and enter the house.
Vanessa began to sob hysterically against the wall. "You can't do this! This is illegal! I'm calling the cops!"
Arthur turned his gaze upon her for the first time. His eyes locked onto the delicate, teardrop-shaped pearls hanging from her ears—the very pearls he had bought for his late mother forty years ago in Florence.
Without a word, Arthur stepped up to Vanessa. He didn't touch her skin. With two fingers, he reached out and snapped the delicate gold clasps of the earrings, removing them cleanly from her earlobes.
Vanessa gasped, pulling back, but the men holding her kept her pinned tight.
"These pearls were worn by a woman of honor, dignity, and grace," Arthur said softly, holding the glittering jewelry in the palm of his hand. "You are a thief who drapes herself in stolen heirlooms while standing in another woman's home."
He placed the pearls carefully into his breast pocket, then turned back to Grant, who was still groveling on the floor.
"You have two hours to pack a single bag, Grant," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a register that made the windowpanes vibrate. "Tomorrow morning, you will receive a call from Vance Legal. You will surrender this house, your business shares, and every cent you have ever touched to my daughter. If you attempt to flee the city, if you attempt to contact her, or if you even look in her direction again... I will not send lawyers next time."
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Arthur turned his back on them, walking slowly down the steps toward the waiting SUV.
As the heavy armored door sealed behind Arthur, the three black SUVs sped off into the dark, rainy night, leaving Grant and Vanessa standing on the porch of a house that was no longer theirs, surrounded by the ruins of their short-lived triumph.
