The Midnight Inheritance: How My Business Partner Framed Me at the Vanderbilt Gala
👉 Previous Decision: You chose to support Clara as she confronted Marcus at the emergency board meeting.
Julian, having followed Marcus’s frantic retreat, cornered him inside the dim, empty carriage house. The air was thick with the scent of old hay and engine oil, a stark contrast to the mansion’s opulence. Marcus stood in the center, panting, his face contorted with rage and desperation.
“You!” Marcus screamed, his eyes wild. He fumbled inside his jacket and pulled out a small, concealed pistol. The glint of metal reflected the weak morning light filtering through the grimy windows.
“Ten years, Julian!” Marcus roared, his voice cracking. “Ten years I played second fiddle to your moral perfection! While you cleaned up your sister’s messes, I built an empire, and you just came along to ruin it all!”
Julian remained calm, his hands open, showing no aggression. “It was never about perfection, Marcus. It was about right and wrong.” He held up the carbon-copy delivery log he’d gotten from the diner technician, and the audio cassette he’d retrieved from Finch’s office.
“This is the delivery log, Marcus,” Julian said, his voice steady. “Your signature. For the neurotoxin. And this,” he held up the tape, “is you, coercing Finch, threatening him, making him notarize your fraudulent documents.”
Marcus’s eyes flickered to the items, a spasm of fear crossing his face. “None of it matters! I have the power of attorney, signed and notarized! It grants me full control of the estate assets!” He waved a thick, legal-looking document. “It’s all ironclad!”
Julian took a slow step forward. “That’s where you’re wrong, Marcus.” His voice dropped, low and deliberate. “Arthur knew. He knew you were planning something. Four days ago, he quietly filed the paperwork. Your notary license, Marcus? Arthur had it revoked.”
The words hung in the air. Marcus froze, his hand still holding the pistol. The color drained from his face, leaving it ashen. His mouth worked, but no sound came out.
“Every document you had Finch notarize, every trust transfer, every piece of paper since then,” Julian continued, “it’s all completely invalid. It’s paper trash. You have no legal standing, Marcus. Nothing.”
Defeated. Isolated. His ultimate leverage, his carefully constructed web of deceit, exposed as worthless. Marcus’s arrogance had been his undoing. The pistol slipped from his trembling fingers, clattering onto the dusty floor.
Just then, the distant wail of sirens grew louder, closer. Federal agents, alerted by Beatrice and Clara, swarmed the estate grounds. Marcus looked at the fallen gun, then at Julian, his eyes reflecting a complete, utter collapse. He was finished.
➡️ Read Chapter 17 to continue the story
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