Chapter 3: An Empire Under Siege
The cold metal of the holding cell bench bit into Derrick’s back. For forty-eight hours, he sat in police custody, the media outside having a field day. "FROM RAGS TO RICHES TO ROBBERY: THE BILLIONAIRE’S PROTEGE EXPOSED" flashed across every news channel. Charles had orchestrated a flawless PR execution.
Eventually, Derrick was released on a massive bail, secretly paid by an anonymous benefactor. When he stepped out into the pouring rain, Martha—Victoria's loyal, aging assistant—was waiting in a discreet black sedan.
"Get in," she ordered sharply.
As Derrick slid into the passenger seat, soaking wet, Martha handed him a towel. "I didn't pay your bail because I think you're innocent," she said coldly. "I paid it because Victoria is dying."
Derrick froze. "What? What do you mean dying? She was fine three days ago!"
Martha’s hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. "Since you were arrested, Charles activated a medical power of attorney. He claimed the stress caused Victoria to have a micro-stroke. He’s locked down the mansion. Replaced her doctors. He’s pumping her full of sedatives, Derrick. He’s going to declare her mentally unfit, take full control of Lane Tech, and sell Project Phoenix to a military contractor."
The realization hit Derrick like a freight train. Charles didn’t just want him gone. Charles was staging a hostile takeover by medically incapacitating his own sister.
"We have to get to her," Derrick said, his jaw tight.
"He has armed guards around the clock. You can't just walk in," Martha replied. "But I managed to steal this before I was locked out." She pulled a small, silver USB drive from her pocket. "It's a clone of Charles's laptop hard drive. I couldn't crack the password, but if you can..."
Derrick grabbed the drive. "Take me to my old lab. Not the corporate one. The underground workshop at the university."
For the next two days, Derrick functioned on zero sleep and black coffee. He used every ounce of coding knowledge he had acquired building the neural interfaces to tear through Charles's encrypted files. What he found made his blood run cold.
There were emails detailing bribes to the offshore bank managers, falsified IP logs, and most horrifying of all—messages to a disgraced private physician outlining a dosage plan of heavy barbiturates designed to induce dementia-like symptoms in Victoria.
"He’s slowly poisoning her," Derrick whispered to the empty room.
Armed with the decrypted files, Derrick knew going to the police wouldn't be fast enough. Charles was scheduled to sign the final sale of Lane Tech at the annual shareholder gala that very night. Once the ink was dry, the company was gone, and Victoria would be permanently institutionalized.
Derrick had to crash the gala. But he couldn't do it alone.
That evening, the grand ballroom of the St. Charles Hotel was dripping in chandeliers and champagne. The elite of New Orleans gathered to witness Charles Lane formally take the reins of Lane Tech. Charles stood at the podium, basking in the flash of cameras, ready to give his victory speech.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Charles spoke smoothly into the microphone. "It is with a heavy heart that I step in for my sister, Victoria, whose failing health has forced her to step down. But tonight, we look to the future..."
Suddenly, the massive oak doors of the ballroom crashed open.
The room fell dead silent.
Standing in the doorway was Derrick, dripping wet from the rain, holding a thick stack of printed documents. But he wasn’t alone.
Beside him, pushed in a standard hospital wheelchair by Martha, was Victoria. She looked incredibly weak, her skin pale, but her eyes—staring daggers at her brother—were blazing with undeniable fury.
"Victoria?" Charles stammered, stepping back from the podium, his face draining of color. "Guards! How did they get in here?!"
"I let them in," a voice echoed from the side. The Chief of Police stepped out from the shadows, flanked by four uniformed officers.
Derrick marched down the center aisle, raising the documents high. "These are the decrypted files from Charles Lane’s personal server! They prove that he fabricated the embezzlement, framed me, and hired an unlicensed doctor to slowly poison the CEO of this company!"
The ballroom erupted into chaos. Cameras flashed wildly. Charles lunged forward, desperate to snatch the papers, but two officers immediately tackled him to the marble floor.
"It’s a lie! He’s a street rat!" Charles screamed as handcuffs clicked around his wrists.
Victoria slowly, painfully, grasped the arms of her wheelchair. The crowd gasped as she forced herself to stand. Her legs trembled violently—she hadn't walked in weeks due to the drugs—but Derrick was instantly at her side, offering his shoulder.
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Together, leaning on the boy she had once saved, Victoria looked down at her brother.
"You always were a coward, Charles," she said, her voice weak but echoing through the silent room. "Take him away."
