Chapter 25 - A Meeting in the Penthouse
Charles Thorne sat behind a massive, curved glass desk that overlooked the glittering, panoramic night view of the San Francisco Bay and the illuminated span of the Golden Bay Bridge. He was a man in his late forties, wearing an expensive tailored suit, swirling amber scotch in a crystal tumbler as he watched the city lights. When the heavy double doors crashed open, he didn't even flinch. He simply took a slow sip of his drink and turned slowly in his ergonomic leather chair, a patronizing, arrogant smile curving his lips.
"Well, well," Thorne said smoothly, his voice dripping with condescension. "Damian Vance. I must admit, I didn't think the legendary Chicago mobster would crawl out of his retirement home just to chase a college kid across the country."
I walked slowly into the sprawling penthouse office, my footsteps echoing against the hardwood floor. Viktor flanked my right side, scanning the room for hidden threats. I stopped ten feet away from Thorne’s glass desk, resting my hands casually inside my coat pockets.
"You've been doing a lot of reading on my family, Charles," I said, my voice unnaturally calm, carrying a quiet, frozen intensity that made the billionaire's smile flicker for a fraction of a second. "And yet, you clearly didn't do your homework on who I am."
Thorne set his glass down on the glass desk with a sharp clink. He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket with an air of absolute superiority. "Spare me the theatrical mob speeches, Vance. This isn't Chicago. This is Silicon Valley. Here, wars aren't fought with guns and baseball bats; they're fought with patents, venture capital, and federal indictments. That kid, Marcus, is sitting on an artificial intelligence prototype that belongs to my firm under standard non-disclosure clauses."
"He's a university student working on independent academic research," I countered sharply. "Your goons stalked him on campus and threatened his sister. That crosses a line from corporate competition into criminal extortion."
Thorne laughed—a dry, abrasive sound. "Extortion? Prove it. My security consultants are elite contractors. There's no paper trail linking me to those two men on campus. If you touch me, Vance, the SEC, the FBI, and half the federal judges in California will have your legitimate business empire dismantled before breakfast."
I stared at him for a moment, letting the silence stretch across the luxurious penthouse office. Then, I pulled the leather folder from my coat pocket and tossed it casually onto his glass desk.
Thorne looked down at the folder warily. "What's this?"
"Open it," I commanded softly.
Thorne frowned, reaching down to flip open the cover. As his eyes scanned the first page, the arrogant, smug color drained rapidly from his face. His hands began to tremble.
"T-This is..." Thorne stammered, looking up at me with sheer horror in his eyes. "How did you get this?"
"My kid isn't just a brilliant computer science major," I said, stepping closer until I was leaning over his desk, looking straight down into his panicked eyes. "He's also a genius hacker. While you were threatening him, Marcus spent four hours auditing Apex Data Dynamics' entire corporate ledger. We found your offshore shell accounts in the Cayman Islands, your illegal acquisition of stolen medical patents, and the financial bribes you paid to federal regulators last year."
Thorne’s breath hitched. "You... you can't release this. It would ruin me."
"In my world, Charles," I whispered coldly, "debts are always paid. You leave Marcus alone, you drop all false claims to his research, and you transfer twenty million dollars into my foundation for underprivileged youth as a penalty for wasting my time."
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Thorne swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. He knew he was checkmated. "I... I'll sign the transfer papers immediately."
"Good boy," I said, patting his desk patronizingly. "It's nice doing business with a professional."
