Chapter 9 - Retribution in Diamonds
Julian’s face drained of every drop of color. His wine glass slipped from his fingers, shattering into a hundred pieces on the polished marble floor.
"Clara?" he whispered, his vocal cords constricting in terror. "You... you're in a psychiatric ward—"
"No, Julian," Clara interrupted, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the stage. With every step she took, the high-society guests parted like the Red Sea, murmuring in shocked disbelief. "I was in Vance Memorial Hospital, recovering from the emergency surgery required to save our daughter's life—after you threw me down the stairs of this very foyer."
The room erupted into total chaos. Reporters pushed past security, microphones thrust forward, shutter clicks rattling like machine-gun fire.
"She's lying!" Elena screamed, panic bleeding through her porcelain composure. "She's insane! Security! Security, remove this woman immediately!"
None of the security guards moved.
Instead, the Lead Federal Marshal stepped onto the stage, holding up a certified federal warrant. "Julian Thorne. Elena Rostova. Step away from the podium. By order of the United States District Court, all Thorne Enterprise assets have been frozen pending indictment for grand larceny, securities fraud, and aggravated assault."
Julian lunged forward, his eyes wild with desperation. "This is my house! I own this land! Clara, sign the papers right now or I swear to God—"
Before Julian could take two steps toward Clara, Marcus Vance stepped into his path. Marcus grabbed Julian by the throat with one massive hand, slamming him backward against the podium. The microphone screeched violently.
"Touch her again, Julian," Marcus whispered into his ear, loud enough for the front row of journalists to hear, "and you won't live to see the inside of a courtroom."
Clara walked past the pinned, sputtering Julian and stopped directly in front of Elena.
Elena was trembling now, her eyes darting toward the exits, looking like a trapped rat in a couture gown.
"Take it off," Clara said quietly.
"What?" Elena choked out.
Clara reached out, grabbed the emerald necklace hanging around Elena’s throat, and yanked it with a single, brutal snap. The delicate gold chain snapped instantly. Elena cried out, clutching her neck as Clara slipped her mother’s heirloom into her pocket.
"The police are waiting outside for you, Elena," Clara said, her voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. "Interpol has been looking for you since Monaco. Marcus’s team was kind enough to send them your current coordinates."
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Two female federal agents stepped up behind Elena, twisting her arms behind her back and slapping cold steel handcuffs onto her wrists. Elena kicked and screamed obscenities as she was dragged down the stage in front of the flashing cameras.
***
