The heavy steel door hummed and swung open.
Camille Sterling-Vance walked in, her white peplum corset bodice standing out sharply against the dark gray tungsten walls. Her heels clacked rhythmically against the concrete floor. Behind her walked Chloe Bennett, carrying a leather-bound dossier.
Marcus jumped up, clutching at his chest. "Camille! Please! You have to tell the federal agents to drop the conspiracy charges! I told them everything I know! I didn't know the tea was poisoned! I swear to God I thought it was just a strong sedative to keep Arthur quiet while we signed the proxy!"
Camille stopped three feet from him. She didn't speak. She simply stared down at him through her square black lenses. The silence stretched for ten, fifteen, twenty seconds, growing so thick that Marcus began to visibly shake.
"A sedative, Marcus?" Camille said finally, her voice low, smooth, and terrified in its complete absence of emotion. "You believed Julian was going to administer a secret chemical sedative to an eighty-year-old man with a known cardiac condition, just to sign over controlling equity?"
"Yes! I mean... no! Julian said... Julian said it was an herbal compound from Switzerland!" Marcus babbled, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. "He said it would make Arthur confused, enough for the doctor to certify cognitive incapacity! That's why we paid Dr. Chen the two hundred thousand!"
"Dr. Chen has already confessed to federal prosecutors," Chloe noted dryly from behind her tablet. "He admitted that you personally transferred the funds from your personal offshore account in Nevis."
Marcus collapsed back into the chair, burying his face in his trembling hands. "They forced me, Camille! Kael had my gambling debts from Macau! Twelve million dollars! He said if I didn't help Julian get the proxy signed, he'd release the video tapes of me selling non-public earnings reports to his analysts!"
"I don't care about your gambling debts, Marcus," Camille said coldly. "And I don't care about your weakness. What I care about is the hand that carried the vial into the building."
Marcus looked up, confused. "What... what vial?"
Camille stepped closer, towering over him. "The steward did not bring the poison into the tower. Security camera footage from the sub-basement executive garage shows a silver Mercedes entering at four-fifteen PM yesterday—a vehicle registered to the Vance Family Private Foundation."
Marcus froze. The color drained completely from his face, leaving him a sickly grayish white. "No... no, that's... that's impossible."
"The driver's keycard was used to bypass the sixty-second floor security scanner at four-thirty PM," Camille continued, her voice relentless, hammering into his psyche. "The blind-spot analysis of the hallway outside Julian's study shows a figure wearing a mink coat leaving a package on the steward's pantry cart. Marcus... who drives that Mercedes?"
Marcus began to tremble so violently his teeth chattered. "I... I can't say her name... she'll kill me... she'll cut me off..."
"She has already cut you off!" Camille roared, her voice suddenly cracking through the room like thunder, shattering Marcus's fragile composure. "She used you as a meat shield! Julian is going to spend the rest of his life in ADX Florence! You are facing thirty years for attempted murder and treason! The only person who decides whether you die in a federal penitentiary or serve five years in a minimum-security facility is ME!"
Marcus broke down into heavy, violent sobs. "It was Aunt Victoria!" he shrieked, collapsing onto the concrete floor at Camille's feet. "It was Victoria! She's been working with Jean-Luc De la Roche for fifteen years! She hates Arthur! She wanted the Foundation's thirty-billion-dollar endowment released from Arthur's sole trusteeship!"
Camille stood motionless above her groveling cousin. Aunt Victoria Vance—Arthur's younger sister, the pristine, high-society matriarch who ran the family's international charity galas and sat on the boards of three major museums. The woman who had treated Camille like an interloper for a decade, sneering at her behind silk fans at family dinners.
"Victoria," Camille repeated softly, the final piece of the puzzle locking into place with terrifying clarity. "She provided the internal security codes. She brought the poison from Geneva through the foundation's art restoration shipping channels."
"Yes! Yes!" Marcus sobbed, clutching at the hem of Camille's tailored trousers. "She promised me three hundred million from the Geneva syndicate once the foundation was liquidated! Please, Camille, don't let them arrest me! Please!"
Camille stepped back, pulling her trousers free from his grasp with absolute disgust.
"Chloe," Camille said calmly.
"Yes, Chairwoman?"
"Notify Federal Director Torres. Give him the security footage, the keycard logs, and Marcus's recorded confession. Have them intercept Victoria Vance at Kennedy Airport before her private jet leaves for Zurich."
"Right away, Chairwoman."
Camille turned her back on Marcus, walking toward the heavy tungsten door.
"Camille! Camille, please!" Marcus shrieked behind her as the SAS guards moved in to secure him. "You can't do this to your own family! We're Vances!"
Camille paused at the threshold, turning her head slightly so her dark profile caught the harsh lighting of the corridor.