Marcus: Restrain him. Tie his hands and keep him in the security booth until the police arrive.
Guard: Yes, Mr. Morelli. We'll make sure he doesn't touch anything else.
Marcus turned around and walked back into the grand hall, his stride heavy and full of dangerous purpose.
Inside, the crowd had gathered in tight circles, talking nervously as police sirens began wailing in the distance.
Richard Morelli was standing near the grand staircase, sipping a glass of bourbon with a calm, casual expression.
Marcus: Enjoying your drink, Richard?
Richard: Marcus! What is all this chaos about? Security said someone messed with the dessert presentation?
Marcus: You know damn well what happened to the cake, Richard.
Richard: What are you talking about? I was right here talking to the board members for the last half hour.
Marcus: Julian just sang like a bird at the front gate. He showed us the rest of the cyanide packet in your company car.
Richard's hand trembled slightly, a drop of bourbon spilling over the rim of his crystal glass onto his designer suit.
Richard: Julian is a liar! You can't take the word of a crooked driver over your own blood brother!
Marcus: Blood brother? You tried to poison me and my six-year-old son for a controlling share of the family trust fund!
Richard: You don't have any proof! A broken cake and a driver's word won't hold up in a court of law!
Marcus: We have a witness who saw him in the kitchen, Richard. A brave little girl who wasn't afraid to speak up.
Marcus pointed toward Lily, who was sitting on a sofa near the entrance, holding a glass of water that Elena had given her.
Richard: That child? You're going to base an attempted murder charge on the imagination of a seven-year-old kid?!
Marcus: She didn't imagine the blue sapphire signet ring on Julian's thumb. She described it word for word before we even searched his car.
Richard: This is ridiculous! I am the senior vice president of this firm! You can't treat me like a criminal in front of our investors!
Marcus: You're not a vice president anymore, Richard. You're a disgraced felon whose life insurance claims just got revoked.
Two uniform police officers burst through the main double doors of the banquet hall, guns holstered but hands resting firmly on their belts.
Officer: We received a report of an attempted poisoning and a detained suspect at the gate. Who is in charge here?
Marcus: Over here, officer. My brother Richard Morelli organized the attack, and his accomplice is currently held by my security team outside.
Richard: Officer, this is a family dispute over business assets! My brother is paranoid and making false accusations!
Officer: Stand still, sir. Don't make any sudden moves. We'll examine the security footage and the chemical evidence collected by Dr. Vance.
Dr. Vance: The forensic swab is ready, officer. It tested positive for high concentrations of potassium cyanide.
Officer: Put your hands behind your back, Mr. Morelli. You're under arrest for attempted multi-count murder and conspiracy.
The officers grabbed Richard's arms, clicking silver handcuffs tightly around his wrists in front of all three hundred high-society guests.
Richard: You'll regret this, Marcus! That inheritance was rightfully mine! You stole father's estate from me years ago!
Marcus: Father knew what kind of monster you were. That's why he left the estate in a protected trust for Liam.
The police led Richard out of the hall as guests pulled out their phones, snapping photos and recording videos of the dramatic fall of the wealthy heir.