Chapter 4 - The War Room
At 7:00 AM the following morning, the top-floor boardroom of the Williams Development Group headquarters was bathed in cold, grey morning light.
The long mahogany table was surrounded by ten senior partners, three forensic accountants, and Arthur Vance, the chief legal counsel.
Victor sat at the head of the table. He was still wearing his suit from the night before, his tie loosened, his dark hair uncombed. But there was no fatigue in his eyes—only an icy, lethal focus.
The door opened, and a young associate rushed in, setting a stack of financial binders in front of Arthur Vance.
"We ran the trace on the fifty-thousand-dollar monthly transfers," Arthur announced, opening the top binder. "The account you deposited the money into wasn't an escrow account for Catherine. It was a shell company named Aegis Management, registered in the Cayman Islands."
Victor leaned forward. "Who owns Aegis?"
"Maris Williams," Arthur stated. "And her nephew, Julian Ross."
Victor’s eyes narrowed. Julian. His cousin—a slippery, failed financial broker whom Maris had insisted on appointing as a vice-president of the family's charitable foundation two years ago.
"Where did the money go after Aegis?" Victor asked.
"Sixty percent went directly to pay off Julian's offshore gambling debts in Macau," Arthur revealed, turning a page. "The remaining forty percent was funneled into a private account used to purchase high-end luxury goods, international travel, and private real estate options in Marbella under Julian's name."
Victor let out a cold, breathy laugh. "So it wasn't just my mother. Julian was in on it from the beginning."
"Julian was the architect of the paper trail," Arthur added. "He was the one who drafted the fake divorce papers, forged Catherine's signature on the custody waiver, and managed the email accounts used to send you those fake messages from 'Catherine' demanding you stay away."
"Where is Julian right now?" Victor asked, looking at his head of security, Marcus, who stood near the door.
"He's currently at his penthouse in the Financial District, sir," Marcus reported. "He booked a flight to London departing at three o'clock this afternoon."
"Cancel his ticket," Victor said flatly. "And tell the building security at his penthouse that if he attempts to leave with any luggage, his asset forfeiture hold begins immediately."
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the boardroom swung open.
Maris Williams marched into the room, flanked by two high-priced defense attorneys in charcoal suits. She had changed into a sharp tweed skirt suit, trying to project her usual air of aristocratic authority, but the dark circles under her eyes and her frantic breath betrayed her panic.
"Victor!" Maris declared, sweeping her gaze across the room. "This farce has gone far enough! You had the locks changed on my house! You froze my corporate credit cards! Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to have my card declined at the country club this morning?!"
The ten board members looked at her in absolute disgust.
Victor slowly stood up from the head of the table. He picked up one of the red forensic binders and tossed it across the polished mahogany table. It slid thirty feet, slamming into the edge of the table right in front of Maris's lawyers.
"Page twelve, legal counsel," Victor said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Grand larceny, bank fraud, wire fraud, identity theft, and corporate embezzlement."
Maris's senior lawyer opened the binder, skimmed the first two pages, and instantly looked up at Maris, his eyes filled with professional alarm. "Mrs. Williams... you didn't tell us about offshore shell accounts."
"Shut up!" Maris hissed at her lawyer. She turned back to Victor, her chest heaving. "Victor, I am your mother! Everything I did, I did to protect this family from a gold-digger who was going to drag our name into the gutter! Julian helped me manage those funds to keep them safe from her!"
"Julian used those funds to pay off triads in Macau, Mom," Victor said coldly. "And you used them to buy diamond bracelets while your granddaughter ate from a garbage bag outside your birthday party."
Maris flinched as if struck. "She... she was confusing you! I didn't know they were living like that!"
"You didn't care," Victor snapped. "Because you were too busy giving Catherine trace doses of thallium poison three years ago to make sure she was too weak to fight back!"
Silence fell over the boardroom like a heavy stone.
Maris's lawyers took a step backward, away from their own client.
"Thallium...?" the lead attorney stammered, his face turning pale. "Mrs. Williams, is this... is there medical evidence of this?"
Maris’s eyes darted frantically around the room. Her polished facade completely dissolved, revealing the raw, unhinged terror beneath. "It... it wasn't supposed to hurt her! It was just supposed to make her sick enough to leave! She was ruining my son's life!"
The entire boardroom erupted into furious murmurs.
Victor looked at Arthur. "Is the prosecutor downstairs?"
Arthur checked his watch. "They should be in the lobby right now."
Victor looked at his mother one last time. "You spent thirty years teaching me how to be a ruthless businessman, Mom. You taught me never to show mercy to an enemy who tries to destroy what I build."
He turned his back on her, walking toward the grand floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
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"Victor! Victor, look at me!" Maris screamed as two uniformed officers from the Financial Crimes Unit stepped into the boardroom behind her, handcuffs gleaming in their hands. "I am your mother! You can't do this to me! Victor!"
Her screams echoed down the marble hallway as the officers escorted her away, but Victor didn't turn around. He stared out at the city, watching the morning sun break through the storm clouds, illuminating the road leading toward the hospital.
