Chapter 11 - The Fall of Marcus Alden
Ten hours later, the New York morning was cold, clear, and brutally bright.
I sat in my corner office at Alden Tower, reviewing the final corporate dissolution documents that would dissolve Pierce Aero Charter and officially rebrand the fleet under the newly unified Alden Sky Global.
Every single aircraft had been recovered. The leases were solidified. The board members who had enabled Camden had all tendered their resignations under threat of immediate criminal prosecution.
Then, the heavy double doors of my office were violently shoved open.
Two of my security guards stumbled backward, attempting to restrain a man who had somehow bypassed the executive elevator using a forged maintenance keycard.
It was Marcus Alden.
He was disheveled, his tailored suit wrinkled, his tie askew, his face white with fury and exhaustion. He had flown fourteen hours commercial from Singapore through London, desperate and cornered like a rabid dog.
"Out!" I commanded my guards, holding up a single hand. "Wait outside the door. Keep it open."
The guards hesitated, then stepped back into the corridor, their hands resting on their holstered weapons.
Marcus staggered toward my desk, slamming his palms down onto the mahogany. "You think you won, Vivian?! You think you can strip me of everything and just walk away with Julian Sterling?!"
I didn't flinch. I sat upright, elegant in an ivory cashmere suit, looking at him with utter composure. "You lost, Marcus. You gambled with stolen money and an incompetent pawn like Camden. You have no money, no fund, and by the end of today, no passport."
"Our father was a monster!" Marcus snarled, his eyes bulging with manic rage. "He treated my mother like a whore and paid her off with pennies! He gave you this throne because your mother was an Alden socialite! I am his firstborn son! His blood runs in my veins just as much as yours!"
"My father may have made mistakes in his personal life, Marcus," I said, my voice steady and measured. "But he knew one thing with absolute clarity: character matters. You are not a builder. You are a parasite. You tried to destroy what took fifty years to build, and you destroyed yourself in the process."
Marcus reached inside his coat.
In a fraction of a second, the office door flew open. Before Marcus could withdraw his hand, two federal marshals and four armed NYPD tactical officers swarmed the room.
Marcus was slammed chest-first against my desk, the glass shaking under the impact. His arms were pinned behind him, and a Glock was secured from his inner coat pocket and tossed safely across the rug.
"Marcus Alden," the lead marshal barked, pinning his neck down. "You are under arrest pursuant to an international red notice issued by the Southern District of New York for securities fraud, bank fraud, wire fraud, and interstate transport of stolen property."
Marcus thrashed against the wood, screaming obscenities, his face turning purple as the steel cuffs bit into his wrists.
"You'll never have peace, Vivian!" he shrieked as they hauled him backward toward the elevator. "Check the vault! Check father's private vault in Geneva! You don't know the truth! You don't know what he did! Julian's family knows! Ask Julian!"
His screams echoed down the long marble corridor until the elevator doors slid shut, sealing him away into the depths of the justice system forever.
I stood behind my desk, my heart thumping against my ribs.
*Check the vault. Julian's family knows. Ask Julian.*
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I turned toward the panoramic window, looking out over the city. A cold, creeping intuition settled into my chest. The war with Camden and Marcus was over. But an entirely different shadow had just fallen across the room.
***
