Chapter 4 - The VIP AftermathOutside the Blue Room, the gala was in full swing. Wealthy dignitaries in designer gowns and immaculate tuxedos mingled under the glittering chandeliers, sipping champagne and exchanging hollow pleasantries.
Among them, desperately trying to corner junior staffers and mid-level bureaucrats, were Arthur, Evelyn, and Trevor.
"I tell you, there’s been a clerical error!" Arthur was hissing to a bewildered under-secretary near the buffet table. "I am Arthur Mercer! My firm is the backbone of American defense manufacturing! I demand an audience with the procurement director immediately!"
"Mr. Mercer, I’ve already told you," the staffer replied nervously, attempting to back away. "The guest list and contract allocations are strictly managed by the Office of the Joint Chiefs. Without a direct invitation from the senior command, you cannot access the restricted wing."
Trevor tugged nervously at Arthur's sleeve, his face pale. "Dad... people are staring. Look over there. That senator from Virginia just whispered something and laughed at us."
Evelyn fanned herself rapidly with a cocktail napkin, her mascara threatening to run. "This is a nightmare, Arthur. That ungrateful girl... she planned this! She knew we’d be here, and she humiliated us in front of the entire elite class!"
"She's a glorified rent-a-cop who got lucky," Arthur growled, though his voice lacked its usual booming confidence. He poured himself another glass of scotch, his hands visibly shaking. "She thinks a few shiny stars on her shoulders change who she is? She’s still the rebellious brat who walked away from a billion-dollar empire. I’ll ruin her. I’ll use my influence in Congress to launch an ethics investigation. I’ll strip her of her command before the week is out."
"Mr. Mercer?"
A sharp, crisp voice cut through Arthur's ranting. Arthur turned around, expecting a lackey he could bully. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with two armed military police officers and a senior White House protocol officer.
"Arthur Mercer?" the protocol officer asked coldly.
"Yes. That’s me," Arthur said, puffing out his chest and attempting to regain his composure. "Finally. Someone with some sense. Are you here to escort me to the Joint Chiefs?"
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"Not quite, sir," the officer replied, holding out a sleek black tablet. "By order of the Office of the Secretary of Defense and the Joint Chiefs of Staff, your VIP credentials have been formally revoked. Furthermore, Mercer Defense Tech’s pending vendor application has been permanently terminated effective immediately."
The glass of scotch slipped from Arthur's fingers, shattering against the polished marble floor.
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