Chapter 9 - The Confession on the 40th Floor
Two hours later, the rain was pounding against the glass curtain walls of the Vance Tower in downtown Los Angeles.
On the fortieth floor—the executive boardroom that overlooked the sprawling, neon-lit grid of the city—Victoria Sterling-Vance sat cowering in an ergonomic leather chair. Her wrists were secured to the armrests with heavy plastic zip-ties. Her face was completely ruined by tears, mascara, and dried blood from the cuts she had received when Julian threw her into the cake.
The heavy mahogany doors swung open.
Federal agents in windbreakers marked with yellow FBI lettering moved into the room with tactical precision, securing the perimeter exits. Behind them came Assistant U.S. Attorney David Vance, Julian’s eldest brother, carrying three thick manila case files.
And finally, Julian walked in, pushing a wheelchair.
Sitting in the wheelchair, wrapped in a warm wool blanket, was little Leo.
The toddler’s head was still bandaged, but his amber eyes were bright, and he was clutching a brand-new plush dinosaur against his chest, happily chewing on a fresh, allergen-free strawberry biscuit that Marcus had prepared for him.
When Victoria saw the child, a sharp, ragged sob escaped her lips.
“Leo...” she whispered, her voice cracked and broken.
Julian wheeled his son to the far side of the massive glass conference table, safe behind the perimeter of federal agents, and gently kissed the boy’s head.
“Stay here with Uncle David, buddy,” Julian whispered. “Daddy has one last thing to take care of.”
Julian walked to the head of the table and turned on the sixty-inch video conference monitor mounted on the wall.
The screen flickered to life, showing an interrogation room at the federal detention center in downtown Los Angeles. In the frame sat Dr. Anthony Cross, his face bruised, his designer clothes replaced by an orange inmate jumpsuit. Beside him sat a public defender, looking pale and completely overwhelmed.
“Mr. Cross has already signed a full proffer agreement,” David Vance announced, his voice echoing authoritatively through the boardroom. “In exchange for the Department of Justice taking the death penalty off the table, he has provided full, unedited audio recordings of every conversation he had with Victoria Sterling over the past twenty-four months.”
David tapped a button on his tablet.
The high-definition audio speakers in the ceiling crackled to life.
*“If Clara dies by November,”* Victoria’s voice rang through the room, clear, cold, and utterly devoid of remorse, *“Julian will be completely broken. I will move into the house by Christmas. Once we are married, the trust can be contested. But the boy is the problem, Anthony. As long as Leo is alive, Julian will never sign over power of attorney. The boy has to go.”*
*“How do you want to handle it?”* Anthony’s recorded voice replied.
*“His birthday,”* Victoria’s voice answered with chilling cheerfulness. *“A massive party. High society. So many moving parts that nobody will be able to pinpoint the blame. A falling structure. A heavy cart. And if the impact doesn't do it, his throat will close from the almond paste before Julian can even reach his phone. It will be an absolute, tragic masterpiece.”*
In the boardroom, Victoria lowered her head onto the polished mahogany table and began to wail, a sound of pure, unadulterated defeat.
“You recorded me...” she sobbed toward the monitor. “Anthony, you bastard, you recorded me!”
“He was protecting himself, Victoria,” Julian said, walking toward her chair. He stopped two feet away, looking down at her like an emperor looking at dirt. “Just as you would have turned on him the moment the money cleared the Swiss accounts. Parasites always eat each other in the end.”
Two FBI agents stepped forward with heavy steel handcuffs. With a sharp snip of heavy trauma shears, they cut the plastic zip-ties from her wrists.
“Victoria Sterling-Vance,” the lead agent recited, pulling her arms roughly behind her back and clicking the cold steel cuffs into place with a loud, final snap. “You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit first-degree murder, attempted murder of a minor, and the premeditated homicide of Clara Vance. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
Victoria looked up at Julian, her face twisted in a mixture of agony, hatred, and pathetic desperation.
“Julian... please!” she cried out as the agents hauled her to her feet, dragging her toward the boardroom doors. “I loved you! I gave you everything! Don't let them take me! JULIAN!”
Julian didn't answer. He didn't even look at her as she was pulled through the double doors, her desperate screams fading down the long, carpeted executive hallway until the heavy glass elevator doors slid shut.
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The nightmare was finally over.
***
