Chapter 6 - The Arrival of the Architect
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Every head in the massive cathedral turned toward the back entrance simultaneously.
A tall man in a sharply tailored charcoal suit stood perfectly still beneath the shadow of the massive oak doors. He was holding a heavy black projector case in one hand. Two broad-shouldered men flanked him on either side, their posture far too rigid and alert to belong to normal corporate office staff. The man began walking down the center aisle with the terrifying calm of someone who was not entering a funeral to mourn, but executing a federal warrant.
It was Marcus Reed. Lucian’s most trusted attorney.
His deep, authoritative voice cut effortlessly through the smell of lilies and the thick web of lies hanging in the air.
“Per Mr. Lucian Ashcroft’s final, notarized legal instructions, no one is permitted to leave this cathedral until the recording is played in its entirety.”
Victoria’s triumphant smile instantly faltered. Her hand, which had been pointing commandingly at the pallbearers, slowly dropped to her side.
Marcus did not rush. He stopped right before the marble altar, placing the black case on a stand. He looked at Victoria with a level of cold, calculating disdain that I had never seen in a corporate lawyer.
“The memorial service,” Marcus said softly, though the acoustics carried his words to the very back row, “has just begun.”
A hidden, motorized screen began to descend from the choir loft with a low mechanical hum. It unfurled steadily over the altar until the cathedral’s ancient, carved wooden saints disappeared completely behind a massive rectangle of stark white light.
The mourners shifted in their wooden pews, startled and deeply uneasy. Several high-ranking members of Lucian’s corporate board stood halfway up from their seats, exchanging panicked glances, unsure whether they should intervene, call security, or simply pretend this was a planned part of the program.
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Victoria recovered her composure quickly. She smoothed her black veil, adjusted her gloves, and arranged her face back into a mask of noble, maternal suffering. She thought she knew what was coming. She expected a final, tearful tribute. A pre-recorded video of Lucian praising his loving mother, thanking the grand dynasty, and restoring complete financial control to the sacred Ashcroft bloodline before his burial. She truly believed that every room in the world, even this one, eventually returned to her control.
She was wrong.
