Chapter 6 - The Fall of the Titan
Three days later, Manhattan was hit by a crisp, clear winter sunrise.
I stood in the office of the United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York, looking through a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking lower Manhattan.
Priya sat beside me, sipping an espresso, while U.S. Attorney Marcus Vance (no relation to Julian) flipped through a mountain of sworn affidavits and digital forensics reports.
"Julian Vance was arraigned two hours ago," prosecutor Vance told us, leaning back in his leather chair. "The grand jury returned a twelve-count indictment: wire fraud, attempted corporate extortion, perjury, and filing false statements with federal agencies."
"Did he post bail?" Priya asked.
"Bail was set at twenty-five million dollars," the prosecutor replied with a dark smile. "He managed to raise it by leveraging his primary residence in the Hamptons, but his venture firm is finished. Institutional investors pulled four hundred million in capital commitments overnight. His partners are already cutting deals with us to testify against him."
At that moment, the door opened, and a senior federal agent stepped in.
"Mr. Vance’s attorney is downstairs," the agent reported. "They are begging for an allocution meeting before the formal trial date is set. They want to know if Miss Reeves is willing to sign a non-prosecution agreement regarding civil damages."
I turned away from the window and looked at the prosecutor.
"Tell Julian’s lawyer that I will agree to a civil settlement under three absolute conditions," I said coldly.
"Name them," the U.S. Attorney said.
"First, Julian Vance surrenders all remaining shares of Vance Global to a public charitable trust dedicated to funding female tech founders from rural backgrounds," I declared. "Second, he signs a permanent, global injunction barring him from ever serving as an officer, director, or investor in any technology company for the rest of his natural life."
"And third?"
"Third, he writes a full, public letter of apology detailing every lie he told about my research, to be published on the front page of the Wall Street Journal, paid for out of his personal funds."
The prosecutor let out a quiet whistle. "That effectively wipes him out, Morgan. He’ll be completely broke when he finishes his prison sentence."
"Julian tried to steal my life's work, destroy my reputation, and reduce me to a puppet for his investment fund," I said, my voice steady and unforgiving. "He’s lucky I’m leaving him his clothes."
An hour later, the news hit the wire: Julian Vance accepts full civil terms, pleads guilty to federal wire fraud.
As I left the courthouse, dozens of reporters and photographers were gathered on the granite steps outside. Flashbulbs went off in a dazzling, blinding rhythm. Microphones were shoved toward my face.
"Miss Reeves! Miss Reeves!" a reporter shouted over the din. "How does it feel to completely dismantle one of Silicon Valley's most powerful investors in less than seventy-two hours?"
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I paused at the bottom of the steps, looking out over the crowd of journalists, security guards, and curious onlookers.
"It feels like justice," I said simply. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a family dinner to catch."
