KABOOOOM.
“…ANY ASSET, ANY DIVERTED CONTRACT, AND ANY SEDITIOUS EQUITY FUNNELED THROUGH VALKYRIE BY ANY COLLATERAL FIDUCIARY… REVERTS IN ABSOLUTE FEE SIMPLE UNTO THE SOLE SURVIVING DIRECT LINEAL HEIRS OF ARTHUR MERCER SENIOR AND ETHAN VANCE SENIOR JOINTLY.”
“Unto Ethan Arthur Mercer-Vance.”
“And his son, Leo.”
“The child your grandson tried to crush under a commercial truck.”
“You didn’t steal sixty billion dollars from the Manhattan harbor trust tonight, Arthur.”
“You spent forty years pouring sixty billion dollars of your personal criminal reserves… straight into Leo’s sovereign spendthrift trust.”
“You spent four decades engineering a grand takeover…”
Judge Mercer bared her teeth in a cold, terrifying line of white bone:
“…only to hand your entire dynastic empire to the five-year-old boy who knocked on a Ferrari window.”
Arthur Vance’s skeleton seemed to liquefy.
He collapsed backward into his leather executive chair, his head hitting the headrest with a dull, hollow thud:
