Chapter 14 - Bloodline on the Auction Block
The ivory-handled revolver clicked as Harrison drew back the heavy hammer.
"Harrison, don't do it!" Roman shouted, raising his hand in a desperate bid to freeze the moment.
Harrison was shaking so violently that the barrel of the antique weapon wobbled in small, erratic circles.
"I gave thirty years of my life to this family!" Harrison shrieked, his voice cracking with hysteria.
"Thirty years of cleaning your books!"
"Thirty years of lying to the tax authorities!"
"Thirty years of pretending I was your brother while you treated me like an employee!"
"You were family, Harrison," Roman said, taking a slow, steady step forward.
"I gave you ten percent of the holding company."
"I gave you a seat at every table."
"You gave me scraps from your father's plate!" Harrison yelled.
His finger began to squeeze the curved trigger of the revolver.
"If I'm going to federal prison," Harrison sobbed, "I'm taking the golden boy with me!"
He leveled the barrel squarely at Julian’s face.
Before the firing pin could strike the primer, Sarah Bennett stepped out from behind the stone pillar.
Sarah carried a heavy bronze garden urn she had lifted from the conservatory steps.
With a scream born of three years of terror and hiding, she hurled the ten-pound urn straight at Harrison’s chest.
The heavy bronze struck Harrison across his collarbone with a sickening crunch of breaking bone.
The revolver discharged wildly, the bullet ricocheting off the limestone archway and showering Eleanor with dust.
Harrison tumbled backward onto the marble floor of the gallery, groaning in agony.
Julian closed the distance in two strides.
He kicked the antique firearm across the floor, away from Harrison's reaching fingers.
Julian knelt down, placing his heavy tactical boot directly on Harrison's fractured shoulder.
Harrison let out a piercing shriek of pain.
"That was for Sarah," Julian said quietly.
He pressed down slightly harder.
"And this is for three years of sleeping in shipping containers across the Mediterranean."
"Stop... Julian, please... mercy..." Harrison whimpered, his face pressed against the cold tiles.
"You ran out of mercy three years ago in Nice," Julian replied.
Behind them, state troopers and FBI tactical teams swarmed the terrace with rifles raised.
"Federal agents! Nobody move! Drop your weapons!" a loudspeaker boomed from the lead cruiser.
Marcus Vance immediately laid his sidearm upon the glass table and raised his hands into the air.
Claire stepped back from Arthur Vance, tossing the captured weapon onto the gravel.
Arthur remained on his knees, his hands resting on top of his head as federal agents pinned him to the stones.
A sharp-faced woman in an FBI windbreaker sprinted up the stairs, followed by four armed tactical officers.
She flashed a gold badge at Roman.
"Special Agent Catherine Miller, Federal Anti-Corruption Division."
Miller looked down at Arthur Vance, then at Eleanor Vale.
"Special Agent Vance, you are under arrest for treason, conspiracy to commit murder, and racketeering."
Arthur Vance did not say a word.
He kept his eyes glued to the stone terrace as the cold steel handcuffs clicked around his wrists.
Agent Miller turned her piercing gaze toward Eleanor Vale.
Eleanor pulled herself upright, trying desperately to summon the imperial posture of an empress.
"Do you know who I am, young woman?" Eleanor demanded, her voice shaking with venomous pride.
"I am Eleanor Vale."
"I have dined with three presidents."
"My family built the maritime corridors of this nation."
Agent Miller pulled a folded arrest warrant from her tactical vest and held it before Eleanor’s face.
"Mrs. Vale, you are under arrest under a federal grand jury sealed indictment."
"Charges include masterminding the transnational laundering syndicate in Limassol."
"The attempted assassination of Julian Vale."
"And the first-degree murder of your husband, Thomas Vale, thirty years ago."
Eleanor’s face went entirely white, the last remnants of her arrogance shattering into dust.
"You have no proof..." Eleanor whispered.
Julian stepped forward, holding up a small digital audio recorder.
"I've been wearing a wire since I dropped through that skylight, Mother."
"You confessed to poisoning Father thirty seconds ago in front of forty armed witnesses."
Eleanor stared at her youngest son with pure, unadulterated hatred.
"You unnatural little bastard," Eleanor spat, her voice trembling with venom.
"I should have drowned you in the cradle."
Julian did not flinch.
His scarred face remained completely emotionless.
"Take her away, Agent Miller," Julian said softly.
"She's done speaking in this house."
Two female federal agents stepped forward, took Eleanor by her frail arms, and cuffed her behind her back.
The matriarch of the Vale dynasty was led down the terrace stairs, her silk slippers dragging through the muddy gravel.
She did not look back at her sons.
May you like
She looked only at the flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the dark Atlantic water.
The dynasty of blood had finally fallen.
