Chapter 23 - The Final Meeting
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I sat alone at the long mahogany conference table, my hands folded perfectly in front of me. At precisely two o'clock, the door opened, and Julian walked in.
He looked terrible. The stress of his failed media campaign and his mounting desperation had carved deep, ugly lines into his face. He clutched a leather briefcase tightly to his chest, looking around the pristine room with a mixture of awe and bitter resentment.
"Julian," I said softly, gesturing to the chair across from me. "Sit."
He sat down heavily, placing the briefcase on the table. He tried to muster his old arrogance, puffing out his chest and forcing a cruel smirk.
"I knew you'd crack, Arthur," Julian gloated, his voice dripping with condescension. "You can play the tough guy on television all you want, but when it comes down to paper, you know you owe me. You can't run from the truth."
"Let's see the paper, Julian," I said, keeping my expression entirely neutral.
He unlatched the briefcase and pulled out the forged promissory note, placing it carefully in the center of the table.
"Five million dollars," Julian demanded, tapping the paper. "That's the price of your peace. You give me the check, I leave this here, and you never hear from me again. You get to keep your pristine reputation, and I get what is rightfully mine."
I looked down at the forged document, tracing my own fake signature with my eyes. It was a pathetic, sloppy imitation.
"You really believe you are entitled to this, don't you?" I asked quietly, looking up into his desperate, greedy eyes. "Even after everything. Even after ten years of silence. You still think I exist solely to serve you."
"You're my little brother!" Julian snapped, slamming his hand on the table. "Stop lecturing me and hand over the check!"
May you like
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling a long, slow breath.
"I don't think so, Julian," I said clearly. "I think it's time for some closure."
