Chapter 8 - The Serving of JusticeThe grand lobby of the Vance Corp headquarters in midtown Manhattan was usually a temple of quiet, intimidating corporate luxury, paved with Italian marble and manned by armed security guards in sharp black uniforms. Today, it looked like a war zone.
Federal marshals in tactical gear were streaming through the revolving glass doors, carrying large plastic bins filled with seized hard drives, accounting ledgers, and corporate binders. Reporters and camera crews crowded behind the police barricades outside, pressing their lenses against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, shouting questions that echoed off the hollow marble walls.
Julian Vance stood in the center of the lobby, surrounded by three frantic PR advisors and his pale, sweating chief counsel, Arthur Pendelton. Julian’s face was a mask of thunderous fury. His suit jacket was wrinkled, his tie loosened, and his eyes blazed with an unhinged, homicidal rage.
"What do you mean you can't stop them, Arthur?!" Julian roared, grabbing the lapel of his lawyer's suit jacket and shoving him back against a marble pillar. "You're supposed to be the best damn corporate attorney in the country! Call the judge! Call the Attorney General! Do whatever it takes to throw these federal thugs out of my building!"
"Mr. Vance, please, sir!" Pendelton stammered, frantically pushing his glasses up his nose as he tried to pry Julian’s fingers off his jacket. "We have no legal footing right now! The evidentiary packet delivered to the SEC is ironclad. The federal warrants are signed by a federal district judge. If we resist, they will arrest you on obstruction of charges before the morning is over!"
Before Julian could reply, a tall, impeccably dressed woman in a sharp navy blue pantsuit stepped through the revolving doors, flanked by two private process servers carrying heavy leather briefcases. She walked with absolute confidence, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, cutting through the chaos of the raid like a razor blade.
It was Sarah Sterling, Evelyn’s lead divorce and family law attorney—one of the most ferocious and undefeated litigators in the state of New York.
Julian spotted her immediately. Recognizing the high-profile legal shark, his eyes narrowed into slits of pure venom. He shoved Pendelton aside and stalked across the lobby toward Sarah, his massive frame radiating pure hostility.
"You," Julian sneered, stepping directly into Sarah's path, forcing her to stop. "You're Evelyn’s lapdog. Turn around and get out of my building before I have security throw you out into the street."
Sarah didn't flinch. She simply tilted her head, offering Julian a cold, razor-sharp smile that only fueled his rage further.
"Mr. Julian Vance, I presume?" Sarah said, her voice clear, calm, and carrying easily across the noisy lobby. "I wouldn't bother calling security, Julian. Your private security detail is currently too busy answering federal subpoenas. Besides, I'm not here to negotiate. I'm here to serve you."
With a swift, practiced motion, Sarah opened her briefcase, pulled out a thick, official legal document bound in blue cardstock, and thrust it directly into Julian's chest.
Julian instinctively slapped the papers away, sending them fluttering down onto the marble floor. "I don't accept your garbage! Tell that ungrateful bitch that if she thinks she can divorce me and take my money, she's delusional! I will bury her!"
Sarah didn't bat an eye. She calmly bent down, picked up the legal papers from the floor, and stepped forward, pressing them firmly against Julian's chest once more, ensuring his hands had no choice but to grab them to prevent them from falling.
"You've just been officially served with a petition for divorce, emergency sole custody of your minor child Lily, and a comprehensive restraining order," Sarah announced loudly, her voice projecting so that every reporter outside the glass and every federal marshal in the lobby could hear every word. "Furthermore, given your recent federal fraud indictments, public endangerment, and documented history of emotional abuse, all marital assets are frozen pending court review. You have twenty days to respond, Julian. Though, given how your empire is collapsing around you right now, I doubt you'll last twenty hours."
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Julian stood frozen, staring down at the blue-backed legal documents in his hands. The weight of it all—the federal raid, the plummeting stock, the viral scandal, and now a devastating divorce and custody lawsuit engineered by the very wife he had spent years dismissing—finally crashed down on him with crushing force.
His vision blurred at the edges. For the first time in his life, the untouchable billionaire felt the terrifying, helpless vertigo of absolute freefall.
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