All the color drained from Julian's face, leaving him looking like a corpse in a tailored suit.
He lunged forward, slamming his hand flat over the check as if trying to hide it from the world.
"Tyler," Julian said, his voice dropping to a harsh, desperate whisper. "Call the police."
"Sir?" Tyler asked, looking completely bewildered. "But he has the funds... it's a certified check."
"Do not question me!" Julian roared, the sudden explosion of anger shattering the elegant atmosphere of the store. "Call the police right now! He's not a customer. He's a threat!"
Julian gripped the edge of the glass display, his knuckles turning white, staring at me with a mixture of hatred and absolute panic.
"You aren't leaving this store with that watch, Pendelton," Julian hissed. "I will destroy it myself before I let you touch it."
Julian Vance’s hand remained clamped over my cashier’s check, his breathing shallow and rapid.
The polished elegance of the Vanguard showroom had evaporated in an instant, replaced by a suffocating, violent tension.
Near the front windows, the well-dressed couple who had been browsing muttered something to each other and practically ran out the front doors, eager to escape the escalating conflict.
Tyler stood frozen behind the counter, staring at his boss in total confusion.
He held the phone receiver in his hand but hadn't dialed the police.
"Mr. Vance," Tyler whispered, glancing nervously at the check hidden beneath Julian's palm. "It's a quarter of a million dollars. It's real. I checked the watermark."
"Put the phone down, Tyler," Julian snapped, never taking his eyes off me. "And get Marcus out here immediately."
Within seconds, a massive security guard in a dark suit stepped out from an alcove near the front entrance.
Marcus was built like a linebacker, his face an impassive mask as he closed the distance between us.
He stopped two feet away from me, crossing his arms, waiting for an order.
"Escort this man off the premises," Julian commanded, his voice trembling slightly. "If he resists, use force."
Marcus reached out, his massive hand clamping down hard on my shoulder.
I didn't flinch.
I didn't try to pull away.
I just stared directly into Julian Vance's panicked eyes.
"You can throw me out, Julian," I said, keeping my voice dangerously calm. "But if I walk out that door, I'm going straight to the Chicago Tribune. I'll tell them exactly why the owner of Vanguard & Company refused to accept a valid quarter-million-dollar check for his flagship watch."
Julian swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw twitching.
"I'll tell them about David," I continued, letting my voice drop lower. "I'll tell them about the microscopic stutter in the second hand. And I'll tell them what's really hidden inside the casing."
Julian's face turned from pale white to a sickly shade of gray.
He knew exactly what I was talking about.
He knew that if the press or his wealthy clients started asking questions, his entire empire would collapse.
"Hold on, Marcus," Julian said sharply.
The security guard loosened his grip on my shoulder but didn't step back.
Julian slowly lifted his hand off my cashier's check.
He stared at the piece of paper as if it were a live grenade.
"Tyler," Julian said, forcing his voice back into a measured, corporate tone. "Apologize to Mr. Pendelton. We've had a misunderstanding."
Tyler looked utterly bewildered.
"I... I'm sorry, sir," Tyler stammered, looking at me.
"Mr. Pendelton," Julian said, plastering a fake, strained smile on his face. "Why don't we step into my private office? We can discuss this transaction like gentlemen, away from the showroom."
"I'm not leaving without the watch," I said.
"Of course," Julian replied smoothly, though the panic in his eyes betrayed him. "Tyler, pull the Celestial from the case and bring it to the back room."
Tyler fumbled for a set of small keys on his belt, unlocked the heavy glass case, and carefully lifted the velvet display pad holding the watch.
Julian gestured toward the heavy mahogany door.
"After you, Arthur."
I walked past him, my heavy boots thudding against the floor, and stepped into his private office.
The room reeked of desperate wealth.
The walls were lined with dark oak paneling, a massive leather sofa sat against one wall, and a crystal scotch decanter rested on a polished desk.
I stood in the center of the room, refusing to sit.
Tyler followed us in a moment later, carefully setting the watch and my cashier's check on the edge of Julian's desk.
Julian closed the heavy door behind him until it clicked shut, sealing us in.
He immediately dropped the polite smile.
"Tyler, pour us some coffee," Julian ordered, walking behind his desk.
Tyler moved to a silver coffee service on a side table, his hands shaking slightly as he poured.
He was lingering, moving slowly, clearly trying to listen to whatever was about to happen.
Julian leaned over his desk, resting his knuckles on the polished wood.
"I know why you're here, Arthur," Julian said softly. "I'm deeply sorry about what happened to David. It was a tragedy. He was a brilliant young man."
Hearing my son's name in this man's mouth made my blood boil.
"Don't talk about my son," I warned him. "Just take the check and give me the watch."
"I can't do that," Julian said, leaning back in his leather chair. "Because that watch doesn't belong to David. It belongs to me. He sold me the rights."