Chapter 6: The Shield
Arthur Vance didn't walk; he marched across the marble floor, the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea.
Julian, sensing an opportunity, quickly intercepted his path, pasting on a sycophantic smile. "Mr. Vance! What an absolute honor. I am Julian Mercer, from the—"
Arthur didn't even break his stride. One of his security details effortlessly stepped in front of Julian, placing a firm, unyielding hand on his chest, shoving him aside like a piece of furniture.
Arthur reached Vivian. Without a word, he took off his custom tailored suit jacket and gently draped it over her shoulders, pulling the lapels together to cover her front. He kissed her forehead, his voice remarkably gentle. "I'm here, sweetheart. Are you hurt?"
"I'm okay, Dad," Vivian whispered, leaning into his warmth. "Just tired."
The word "Dad" dropped into the dead-silent room like a live grenade.
Julian stood frozen, all the blood draining from his face. Eleanor, who had been confidently marching over to demand the intruders leave, stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging open. The "nobody from upstate" that Julian had always condescended to wasn't a farmer. Arthur Vance had retired to an upstate estate years ago to run his empire in peace. Vivian had kept her surname, preferring to live a normal, independent life without the shadow of her family’s immense wealth.
Arthur turned to face the room. The warmth vanished, replaced by a terrifying, predatory calm.
"Who," Arthur spoke, his voice dangerously low but carrying across the silent hall, "put their hands on my daughter?"
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Eleanor swallowed hard, her previous bravado evaporating. She looked at the floor, suddenly realizing the catastrophic mistake she had just made.
"I won't ask twice," Arthur warned, his eyes narrowing as his security team fanned out. "Speak."
