Chapter 12 - The Execution Protocol
Marcus’s face contorted into an ugly, sneering grimace. He looked around the table at the other six directors, desperately trying to rally their fading confidence.
"She's bluffing!" Marcus shouted, his voice cracking slightly. "It's a forged partition! Security override can only be initiated by a board-certified biometric signature! Call building control! Have these thugs arrested for armed trespassing!"
"Building control answers to the master cryptographic key, Marcus," a calm, synthesized voice echoed through the boardroom’s overhead speakers.
The main wall-mounted holographic monitors flickered to life simultaneously. Instead of the usual real-time stock ticker graphs, the screens displayed a live, encrypted video feed from the medical wing of the Sterling Estate.
Sitting propped up in his bed, looking pale and fragile yet fiercely alive, was Walter Sterling. Beside him stood a team of federal agents in full tactical gear bearing the insignia of the Department of Justice’s Financial Crimes Unit.
Marcus staggered backward, his legs hitting his executive chair so hard it flipped over onto the floor. "No... no, that's impossible. The heart monitor... the sedative drip..."
"You underestimated your uncle, Marcus," Walter said through the speakers, his voice a steady, unyielding rumble of thunder. "And you gravely underestimated the daughter of Julian Vance."
On the boardroom table, Aubree reached down and picked up the steel flash drive. She walked around the obsidian surface, stopping directly behind Marcus’s overturned chair. She reached out and plugged the drive directly into the master terminal console built into the boardroom wall.
A series of bright red command lines scrolled across the massive multi-screen display with blinding speed:
INITIATING MASTER OVERRIDE...
DECRYPTING SHADOW LEDGER (JV-2016)...
TRANSFERRING ASSETS TO VANCE FOUNDATION TRUST...
REVOKING ALL EXECUTIVE ACCESS TOKENS...
TRANSMITTING OFFSHORE TAX FRAUD EVIDENCE TO FBI CENTRAL...
"What are you doing?!" Marcus screamed, lunging forward in a desperate attempt to rip the flash drive out of the port.
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Before his fingers could even graze the metal casing, one of the tactical operatives stepped forward, grabbed Marcus by the collar of his custom Italian suit, and slammed him down onto the conference table with a sickening thud, pinning him there with a heavy forearm across his back.
"Don't touch the hardware," Aubree said quietly, her voice dropping into an icy whisper.
