Chapter 4 - Opening the Vault of Contracts
The screen flashed red, then transitioned to a security verification prompt.
“Warning: Initiating cancellation will immediately notify the event hosts and all associated vendors. This action cannot be undone. Do you wish to proceed?”
Below the warning sat two buttons: Keep Event and Confirm Cancellation.
Outside Arthur’s office door, the corporate world of Vance Global continued its relentless hum—printers whirring, analysts reviewing spreadsheets, the distant clatter of coffee mugs in the breakroom. But inside the sanctuary of his private office, time seemed to slow to a glacial crawl.
Arthur pressed his finger against the mouse pad.
Click.
A digital countdown initiated on the screen: Three. Two. One.
Instantly, the quiet sanctuary of his office was shattered by a barrage of digital noise. His phone began vibrating so violently across the polished walnut desk that it began to edge toward the corner like a living insect.
Julian called. Arthur silenced it.
Mom called three times in rapid succession. Arthur sent them straight to voicemail.
Dad called seven times within ninety seconds.
Then, the private office landline—a secure line reserved for executive communications—flashed red. The caller ID displayed Cedar Grove Estate - Main Office.
Arthur picked up the receiver with chilling calm, leaning back in his ergonomic leather chair. He placed the phone to his ear, his voice level and devoid of any emotion.
"Arthur Vance speaking."
Before the venue director could even introduce himself, a frantic, breathless voice exploded through the receiver.
"Mr. Vance! Thank you—listen, there’s been a catastrophic computer glitch on your account dashboard! Your entire family is currently standing in our main lobby, and your father is screaming at our front desk manager, demanding that we ignore the cancellation notification that just popped up on our master terminal!"
Arthur let out a soft, measured breath. "There is no glitch, Director. The cancellation is entirely deliberate."
"Deliberate?!" the director stammered, his voice cracking with panic. "Sir, the wedding is in less than a month! The imported flowers are scheduled to clear customs tomorrow! The catering trucks are locked in! If you cancel now, we have two hundred VIP guests arriving in twenty-eight days, and—"
"And you have my explicit legal instruction not to open your doors, serve a single canapé, or host a single minute of an event under my name or my financial backing," Arthur interrupted smoothly. "Consider my authorization permanently revoked."
There was a brief, stunned silence on the line. Then, muffled shouting could be heard in the background of the venue’s lobby—a sharp, booming roar that Arthur recognized instantly.
"Put him on speaker," Arthur instructed, his tone dropping an octave into absolute authority.
"Wh—what?"
May you like
"Put my father on speaker. Now."
There was a scuffle of movement, a sharp protest from the venue director, and then Robert Vance’s booming, furious voice echoed loudly through the receiver into Arthur’s quiet office.
