Chapter 3 - The Price of a Soul
Benjamin took a step toward Marcus, his physical frame shaking with a mixture of shock and exploding rage. "You poisoned my son? You poisoned Jason?!"
"Sit down, Ben, before you have a heart attack," Marcus said, placing the leather portfolio on the mahogany changing table. He didn't look bothered in the least. He acted as though he were merely explaining a quarterly loss to a board of directors. "Do you have any idea how much money you’ve wasted over the past year? Millions. Millions thrown at quacks and private clinics, all while Miller Global’s stock price plummeted because its chief executive was sitting in a nursery crying over a dying child."
"He is my son!" Benjamin roared, lunging forward.
Marcus didn't even flinch. He reached into his side pocket, pulled out a small black remote control, and pressed a button.
Across the room, the nursery's smart-glass doors automatically slid shut, locking with a sharp electronic click. Simultaneously, the private elevator behind Marcus whirred to life, and the heavy security shutters on the floor began to descend.
"Don't do anything foolish, Ben," Marcus said calmly. "The penthouse is on total lockdown. The security staff downstairs answers to me. They have for six months."
Benjamin stopped, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Why, Marcus? Why? I gave you everything! You have ten percent equity in the company! You have a multi-million-dollar salary! I made you Jason’s godfather!"
Marcus let out a short, bitter laugh. "Ten percent? Ten percent of a empire you built? We started in the same college dormitory, Ben. I wrote the logistics algorithms. I negotiated the supply chain contracts in Asia. But because your name was Miller, you got ninety percent of the stock, the corner office, the beautiful wife, and the legacy."
Marcus tapped the leather portfolio on the table.
"When Clara died in that crash," Marcus continued, his eyes glinting with a dark, terrifying satisfaction, "I realized how fragile your little dynasty really was. You broken so easily. You handed me operational control within a week. But then I looked at your trust agreement. If you died, everything went into a blind trust for Jason, managed by an independent estate board. I would still just be an employee."
Maria, still holding the trembling three-year-old against the back wall, spoke up, her voice clear and sharp. "So you changed the will."
Marcus finally glanced at Maria, his eyes cold and contemptuous. "You're surprisingly sharp for a housemaid, Ms. Gibson. Yes. I changed the will."
He opened the portfolio, turning to the last page signed with Benjamin’s legal signature.
"Three months ago, when Ben was practically delirious from sleep deprivation and grief, I had him sign an amendment to the family trust," Marcus explained softly, turning to Benjamin. "Do you even remember signing it, Ben? You were sitting right in that chair, drinking the tea your mother brought you."
Benjamin’s breath caught in his chest. "My mother... Eleanor?"
"Your mother understands reality," Marcus sneered. "She lost her estate in Europe years ago. She lives on the allowance you give her. When I explained to her that Jason’s... condition... would allow us to restructure the trust so that she received a lump-sum settlement of fifty million dollars, while the remaining eighty percent of Miller Global stock transferred to me as sole trustee upon the boy's death... she didn't ask a single question. She even helped Dr. Sterling procure the neuro-toxins through her charitable foundation’s import licenses."
The revelation struck Benjamin like a physical blow. He stumbled back, his spine slamming against the side of his son's crib.
His mother. His best friend. His personal physician.
The entire foundation of his life was built on a structure of absolute, blood-soaked betrayal. They had sat at his dining table. They had comforted him while he wept. They had watched him hold his dying son night after night, knowing that every tear he shed, every dollar he spent, and every weak breath Jason took was pushing them closer to a multi-billion-dollar payout.
"You monsters," Maria whispered. "He's three years old. He never did anything to you."
"He exists," Marcus replied simply. "That was his mistake."
Marcus checked his gold wristwatch. "In twenty minutes, Dr. Sterling will return with a team from the city coroner's office. They will certify that Jason succumbed to his progressive neurological illness. You, Ben, will be so grief-stricken that you will step down as CEO, leaving me in full control. If you cooperate, you get to live out your days in a comfortable retreat in Vermont. If you don't... well, an grieving father committing suicide after losing his son is a very believable story for the press."
Marcus reached into his jacket again. This time, he pulled out a compact, suppressed nine-millimeter handgun.
May you like
He pointed it directly at Benjamin’s chest.
"Now," Marcus said softly, "hand over the boy."
