PART 8: THE CORNERED WOLF
A narcissist denied his power is the most dangerous predator on earth. As the corporate board meeting to strip him
of his CEO title drew closer, Charles Vance grew desperate. The high-priced lawyers could not stop the public
exposure of the 1998 hospital records, and the federal prosecutors were already preparing an indictment for
international wire fraud and child endangerment.
On a rainy Thursday evening, while Julianne was at a deposition, Leo walked down to the subterranean
courtyard to clear his head, needing to escape the suffocating air of the penthouse. He was alone. The security
detail Julianne had hired was momentarily distracted by a delivery at the front gate.
A black sedan pulled out of the shadows of the garage, blocking Leo’s path to the elevator. The door opened,
and Charles Vance stepped out. He didn't look like the polished patriarch anymore; his tie was loosened, his silver
hair unkempt, his eyes wide with a frantic, unhinged energy. He held a sleek, heavy pistol at his side, the metal
gleaming dully under the fluorescent garage lights.
“You think you’re going to take my life from me?” Charles hissed, stepping toward Leo, his voice a low,
terrifying vibration. “You are a mistake, Leo. A defective piece of skin that should have died in that clinic. I built
this city. I built that company. I will not let a street rat inherit my name.”
5
Leo didn't run. He stood his ground, his eyes locking onto the gun. He had faced men with knives in dark
alleys; he knew the smell of fear, and he smelled it on his father. “You’re already dead, Charles,” Leo said quietly.
“You’re just the last one to know it.”
Before Charles could lift the weapon, the heavy steel doors of the service elevator burst open. Julian charged
out, his face twisted in pure, protective fury. He didn't hesitate. He threw his entire weight into his father, tackling
him to the polished concrete floor. The gun skittered across the concrete, clattering into the drainage grate. Julian
pinned his father down, his chest heaving, his fist raised, ready to strike the man who had abandoned his brother
twice.
“Don't, Julian,” Leo’s voice cut through the garage, calm and commanding. “He’s not worth the blood on your
hands. Let the system have him.” Julian looked down at the pathetic, broken old man beneath him, then slowly
May you like
stood up, stepping back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother as the sound of police sirens began to wail in
the courtyard outside.
