Lucian ripped the earpiece from his ear.
“What is this?” Silas demanded.
The microphones carried his voice throughout the building.
Mara entered the ceremonial hall from the lower staircase.
Guests screamed.
Reporters stood on chairs.
Camera flashes erupted.
The dead woman walked toward her own memorial portrait wearing black clothes, wet hair, and no attempt to conceal the scars climbing from her shoulder.
Silas gripped the podium.
“Mara.”
She stopped before the stage.
“You appear surprised.”
Lucian reached inside his jacket.
Roman emerged from the eastern corridor and aimed a gun at him.
“Remove your hand,” Roman said.
Security guards surrounded the hall, but none moved. Every camera in the room faced Lucian.
He slowly raised his hands.
Silas descended from the stage.
“You cannot understand what you are doing.”
Mara looked at the image of the seventeen-year-old girl beside him.
“You chose that photograph because you preferred me before I knew what you were.”
“I protected this company.”
“You protected your position.”
“Bellweather would have collapsed after Greyhaven.”
“Then it should have collapsed.”
“Thousands of families depended on us.”
“And Gabriel Sable’s family?”
Silas glanced at Roman.
Fear entered his face.
“That death was unintended.”
Roman’s weapon remained steady.
Mara said, “My mother’s death?”
Silas looked away.
The answer moved through the room.
Lucian suddenly seized a security officer’s weapon.
Roman fired.
The bullet struck Lucian’s shoulder and spun him backward.
Reporters scattered.
Lucian fell behind the ceremonial table, then crawled toward the emergency control panel.
Mara realized what he intended.
“Stop him!”
Lucian struck the red switch.
On the wall display, the water inside Vivienne’s chamber began rising.
Mara ran to the stage console.
The system demanded an architect profile she no longer possessed.
Vivienne’s video shook as water reached her waist.
Lucian laughed from the floor.
“You cannot save her and expose me. Orpheus requires a living successor. If she dies, the merger authorizes automatically.”
Mara searched the dock schematic.
The chamber was connected to three ballast pumps. Lucian had locked the electronic controls, but the entire dry dock rested on a variable flotation system.
“Mara,” Keira said, “the chamber will fill in ninety seconds.”
Roman knelt beside Lucian.
“Give her the override.”
Lucian smiled through the pain.
“There is no override.”
Roman pressed the weapon against his injured shoulder.
Mara looked over.
“Roman.”
He stopped.
She studied the dock design.
Then she understood.
“Keira, open every eastern ballast gate.”
“The Glass Court will tilt.”
“Exactly.”
She activated the emergency anchors beneath the headquarters.
Alarms sounded.
The entire building shifted.
Guests fell against tables as the floating structure tilted toward the eastern harbor.
At Saint Orison, millions of gallons of ballast water rushed from one side of the platform. The dry dock rose unevenly. Vivienne’s chamber rotated with it.
Water poured away from her through an overhead ventilation channel.
The restraints remained locked, but her head stayed above the surface.
“She is breathing,” Keira reported.
Mara gripped the console.
“Send the coast guard our coordinates and open the external doors.”
“Done.”
Lucian stared at her.
“That should not have worked.”
Mara looked down at him.
“You understood ownership. You never understood engineering.”
Police boats surrounded the Glass Court.
Officers entered from every level.
Roman placed his weapon on the floor before they reached him.
Mara stared.
“What are you doing?”
“What you asked.”
“I asked you not to kill him.”
“You also asked for evidence to reach the courts.”
Roman glanced at the files covering the glass walls.
“Some of that evidence belongs to me.”
Keira’s archive had included payments made through Roman’s companies, smuggling routes he had once controlled, officials he had bribed, and businesses used to conceal criminal income.
“You knew this would expose you,” Mara said.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you remove your records?”
“Because selective truth is only another form of burial.”
Officers forced Lucian onto his stomach and handcuffed him.
Silas stood beside the memorial portrait while two financial-crimes investigators approached.
“Mara,” he said. “You cannot allow them to destroy everything your mother built.”
Mara removed the silver Bellweather identification pin from his lapel.
“My mother built a warning system.”
She placed the pin on the signing table.
“You built a grave over it.”
Silas was led away.
Roman held out his hands as officers surrounded him.
Mara moved closer.
“Will they charge you?”
“They should.”
“You saved Vivienne.”