Chapter 4 - Whispers of the Council
Behind the soundproof glass of the walnut conference room, paranoia was tearing the inner circle apart.
Six men—industrialists, shipping magnates, and financial barons who controlled billions in Chicago commerce—sat around the polished table, their initial irritation curdling into genuine terror as the minutes ticked past midnight.
"What is taking him so long?" demanded Julian Vance, a silver-moustached shipping tycoon, slamming his palm against the wood. "We have a vote scheduled. The documents are signed. Dominic cannot simply lock us inside his estate like criminals!"
"Calm yourself, Julian," Arthur Voss said, though his own fingers tapped an erratic, nervous rhythm against his knee. His facade of serene control was beginning to crack. The lockdown hadn't gone according to script. The girl had seen too much; the brace had been exposed too early.
"Calm myself?" another council member shouted, standing up. "Voss, you assured us this transition would be seamless! You told us Dominic was broken beyond repair, that he would sign the temporary authority transfer without a whimper! Now the doors are bolted, his security guards are patrolling the corridors with assault rifles, and we are sitting here like ducks in a shooting gallery!"
Arthur stood slowly, smoothing the lapels of his charcoal-tailored suit. He forced a thin, reassuring smile, though his eyes darted toward the heavy oak doors leading to the main foyer.
"Gentlemen," Arthur purred, his voice dropping an octave to project absolute authority. "Dominic is recovering from a severe head injury and a shattered knee. He is paranoid, confused, and reacting out of fear. But make no mistake: the documents on this table are legally binding. The majority of this council has already pledged their proxy votes to me. Even if he delays tonight, tomorrow morning the board of directors across our corporate holdings will ratify the transition. We have won. A frightened animal in a cage can bare its teeth all it wants, but it cannot change the outcome."
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As if in answer to his words, the overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then plunged the conference room into absolute darkness, save for the emergency red striping along the floor.
Inside the dark room, silence fell instantly. Then, the electronic locks on the glass doors clicked open with a sharp, metallic snap.
