Chapter 7 - The Price of Treachery
Richard’s face contorted into a mask of pure demonic hatred. He lunged upward, attempting to break free of the agents’ grip to wrap his bloody hands around my throat. “I should have strangled you in your cradle! You ungrateful little parasite! I gave you life! I gave you this house! Everything you wear was bought with my money!”
The two federal agents slammed him back onto the marble with brutal, uncompromising force, driving his knees into the stone until a sickening crack echoed through the hall. Richard let out an undignified howl of agony.
“Your money?” I replied, pulling a thick stack of certified seizure notices from Agent Vance’s folder and letting them flutter down onto my father’s face one by one. “There is no money, Richard. Every single penny was stolen from public infrastructure bonds, municipal employee pensions, and forged insurance claims. And as of forty-two seconds ago, the United States Marshals Service has seized all of it under the Asset Forfeiture Act.”
Julian suddenly scrambled out from behind the piano, crawling toward me on his hands and knees. The arrogant, mocking brother who had clapped as our father beat me was gone. In his place was a sniveling, desperate coward.
“Please!” Julian sobbed, attempting to grab the cuff of my trousers. “Please, you're my brother! You know Dad made me do it! He forced me to sign those papers! He threatened to disown me if I didn't laugh at you! You have to tell the feds I didn't know! Tell them I was just an employee!”
I looked down at Julian with absolute disgust. I pulled my leg back, letting his trembling hands grasp empty air.
“You stood there and applauded while he broke my bones, Julian,” I said, my tone chillingly flat. “You told the shareholders I was useless baggage that needed to be thrown out. Well, here is your lesson in corporate efficiency: the federal prosecutors have six distinct audio recordings of you personally ordering the destruction of accounting servers in Savannah. You aren't an innocent employee. You’re an unindicted co-conspirator who just graduated to principal defendant.”
Julian collapsed onto his face, sobbing hysterically into the carpet, his tears mixing with the dust.
Eleanor began to wail, a shrill, piercing lamentation that echoed off the high ceilings. “My jewels! What about my trust funds? You can’t leave your own mother with nothing! I gave birth to you! I brought you into high society!”
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“You watched him drag me by my hair, Mother,” I said, turning to look at her with eyes as cold as absolute zero. “You adjusted your silk gown and raised your champagne glass so my blood wouldn't ruin your view. As far as the law is concerned, you are an accomplice to interstate money laundering. Your jewelry was purchased with proceeds from the Savannah port fraud. The Marshals are inventorying your walk-in vaults right now. You won't leave this courthouse with so much as a silver hairpin.”
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