Johnny Lance and the Seven Deadly Sins System of Wealth

Chapter 7: The Rivalry Ignites

The newsroom was buzzing with chaos. The news of Johnny Lance’s alleged embezzlement scandal had exploded across every major headline in New Veritas. A harsh glare from on-stage eyebrows. **“Corporate Fraud Scandal Rocks New Veritas” though it meant flashes of screens damning their expressions with documents, financial charts, and photographs of Johnny's face.

Mia Torres sat by her desk, scrolling through her breaking news feed via her laptop. Her fellow journalists were huddled together in groups, whispering and speculating among themselves. Meanwhile, Carl - her editor - was directing orders across the room.

“Torres!” came the voice, as if it were shot at her instead of directed to everyone else. “Get moving! I want a piece on Lance by tonight. Everybody's talking about it. This is the kind of story that makes careers.”

Mia looked up, jaw tight. "What if the story's wrong?" she asked, voice slicing through the buzz of activity.

Carl scoffed, walking toward her desk. “Wrong? Are you kidding me? There’s evidence, Mia. Paper trails, bank accounts, offshore transactions. The man’s guilty. Hell, even his face screams guilty. What are you waiting for?”

Mia leaned forward, her tone sharp. “I’ve been following Lance for weeks. None of this adds up. He doesn’t operate like this.”

Carl snorted. “Oh, come on. Do you think Lance is some kind of saint? The guy’s shady as hell, Torres. You know it, I know it, the whole damn city knows it. Now stop playing defense and start writing.”

Mia slammed her laptop shut and stood. “I have to go.”

“Go?” Carl frowned. “Go where? You better not be chasing some personal crusade, Torres. This is news, not a damn soap opera.”

But Mia was already securing her bag. "I will still have your story," she said over her shoulder. "Only it will not be one you want to hear."

---

Johnny was striding his penthouse floor, having his phone glued to his ear. His voice was sharp and obviously strained.

"This is unbelievable, Alan!" he barked. "You're my bloody lawyer, not some dude reading the news like everyone else!"

"Right now, I am trying, John," Alan Reyes- his lawyer- reminded him unhurriedly with a hint of firmness. "But the evidence has been mounting all against you. Offshore accounts and fake transactions are trailing back to you. Some man worked painstakingly on a false trail."

Staring down, Johnny halted again, jaw clenched. "He definitely has to be Marcus. Nobody else has the resources and motive to pull this thing off."

Alan breathed out heavily from his nose. "Possible. Proving it will be another story. Right now, you need to control the damage. The interviews are already crucifying you."

Johnny turned his attention to the giant LED screen on the wall, showing another news program with news anchors dissecting the alleged scandal. Words like "greedy," "fraud," and "criminal charges" began scrolling across the monitor. He reached for the remote and turned off the TV with a snarl.

"I have no time, Alan!" Johnny barked. "If I do not do something about this now, I will lose everything!"

"Then lay low," Alan ordered. "No public statements. No fighting this on your own. Let me handle it."

Johnny scoffed. “Lay low? What’s your solution? Do you think Marcus is going to stop at this? He’s trying to destroy me.”

“Johnny, listen—”

“ Listen no more, Johnny interrupted him with his voice rising. "I am not running away, not this time."

He interrupted before Alan could even get a word out. He then tossed the phone onto the couch. His hands trembled with anger while he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Marcus," he whispered quietly. "You Son of bitch-"

Abruptly, someone knocked on the door. It seemed as if time stood still while his heart pounded in his chest. He approached the door, very slowly, and bent down to look through the peephole. Upon noticing Mia standing across the way, he exhaled sharply and swung the door open.

"You really have some nerve coming in here," Johnny said in a quiet tone laced with wariness.

Mia entered, her eyes locked onto him. "Thank you," she replied monotonously. "I just spent an hour persuading the front desk to not call the police on you."

Johnny closed the door after her, resting against it. "You shouldn’t be here, Mia. It's not safe."

"From what? The mob of reporters downstairs or the fact that half the city thinks you're a criminal?" she shot back, crossing her arms. "What the hell is going on, Johnny?"

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Marcus framed me. He planted fake evidence, leaked it to the press, and now I'm public enemy number one."

Mia frowned, her sharp gaze searching his face. "And you're sure it's Mr. Blackwood?"

Johnny returned a bitter smile. "Who else would it be? Ever since--" He fell silent, the expression on his face darkening.

"Ever since what?" she pressed.

Johnny stood there without saying anything. Finally, he shook his head as if he had just changed his mind. "It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is stopping him before he utterly destroys me."

Mia approached him, and her tone softened a little. "Johnny, if you want my help, you have to tell me everything. No more half-truths."

He locked gazes with her, the muscles in his jaw beginning to tick. "You want the truth? Well, Marcus did not just betray me. He took everything away from me. He took my company, my wife, my life. And now he wants to finish the job."

For a fleeting moment, surprise flickered in Mia's eyes, but before long, she regained composure. "So this is personal."

"Yes it is personal," Johnny growled. "And I'm not going to let him win."

"Fine," Mia presumed slowly, "But if you are going after Marcus, you have to be smart no reckless moves."

Johnny smirked. "Reckless movements are my specialty."

Mia sighed in annoyance and said in a sarcastic tone. “Great. That's precisely what I hoped to hear."

Later that evening, Johnny was positioned beside an elegant office building situated in the center of the city. The title displayed above the doorway read **Blackwood Enterprises.**

Johnny straightened his collar, hands balled into fists at his side. The intensity of his anger simmered just beneath the surface.

The receptionist rarely had an opportunity to raise her head before Johnny pushed her straight to the elevator. He pressed the button for the top floor while ignoring her objections.

The elevator doors parted to expose Marcus's very large office. Marcus sat at his desk holding a glass of scotch. He glanced up at the sudden interruption, his lips twisting into a self-satisfied grin.

"Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour," Marcus remarked, rising up. “ Johnny Lance. What brings you to my humble abode?"

Johnny rushed toward him, his voice deep and menacing. "Cut the bullshit, Marcus. You know why I am here."

Marcus laughed lightly, sipping his beverage. "I presume it has something to do with the headlines. Isn't it quite the controversy?"

Johnny banged his hands on the desk, leaning in closely. "You framed me. You placed that evidence. Based on all my documents you had access to when we used to work together."

Marcus lifted an eyebrow, pretending to be naive. “Framing you? That’s a grave allegation, Johnny. Do you have evidence?"

Johnny’s jaw was clenched. “We both know the truth, Marcus. You trying to destroy me.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair with a smirk. “Destroy you? Johnny, you’re doing that all on your own. I’m just speeding up the process.”

“You coward,” Johnny spat. “You couldn’t crush me outright so you did this instead?”

“Fair and square?” That was the laugh again, his head shaking dismissively. “Oh, Johnny, you really don’t get it, do you? This is about power, not fairness. And right now, I have power. You don’t.”

Johnny clenched his fists as if willed into submission under the growing fury. “Why? Why, Marcus? Why do this to me? Haven’t you done enough damage to my life?”

The smile fell from Marcus’ face as steel replaced any warmth in his gaze. “You think this is just about money? About business? No, Johnny. This is about sending a message. You were always so smug, so self-righteous. You thought you were better than me. Well, look at you now.”

Johnny stared him down, gasping. “That’s sad.”

Marcus chuckled as he stood up and walked around the desk. His expression darkened as he stopped a few feet from Johnny. “And you’re nothing. Just a washed-up loser grasping at straws. Face it, Johnny—you’ve already lost.”

He circled his desk, ready to go after him, fists clenched. “But—” A hand shot up from Marcus. “Careful. You sure don’t want to make things worse for yourself.”

The two men were locked in a stare beneath tense silence, every bit of atmosphere between them crackled with hatred. Then, smiling once more, Marcus spun on his heel, resuming his climb toward the window.

“Get out, Johnny,” he called over his shoulder. “Before I call security. Or worse.”

Johnny's clenched fists quivered with rage, but he turned to walk out instead. He swore under his breath as the elevator doors slid shut behind him.

“It’s not over, Marcus,” he said. “Not by a long shot.”