Chapter 8: The Fall of the House
The federal agents moved with terrifying efficiency.
Before Stephen could lunge for the door, heavy hands slammed onto his shoulders, forcing him down against the mahogany table. The steel cuffs clicked shut around his wrists with a sharp, final sound that echoed through the stunned silence of the boardroom.
"Get your hands off me!" Stephen screamed, kicking his legs frantically as they hauled him toward the exit. He locked his desperate eyes on Elise, shouting, "Do something! Call our lawyers! Tell them!"
Elise didn't look at him. She stood frozen in place, her beautiful emerald gown suddenly looking like a prison uniform, her chest heaving as she hyperventilated. Her carefully constructed facade of power and elegance was completely gone, leaving behind a terrified, cornered animal.
"And as for you, Elise," I said, walking slowly around the table toward her.
She shrank back against her chair, her manicured hands trembling. "Arthur... please. We're married. We can talk about this. At home. Just... don't do this here."
"At home?" I stopped two feet away from her, looking down into the eyes of the woman who had watched me in the hospital and measured my office for her own use. "The home where you celebrated my supposed death in the guest wing? The home where you conspired with my cousin to have a delivery truck crush my skull?"
"I didn't... it was Stephen's idea, he forced me—" she stammered, abandoning her accomplice the moment the net tightened.
"Victor," I called out without turning around.
The head of security stepped forward, placing a thick tablet onto the table right in front of her. He tapped the screen.
The boardroom's surround-sound speakers instantly filled with crystal-clear audio. It was a recorded phone call from three days ago between Elise and the hitman, Marcus Vance, negotiating the final payment for the crash.
The entire board listened in horrified silence as my wife’s cold, calculating voice discussed how to ensure the brakes failed completely.
My uncle lowered his head into his hands, groaning softly in deep, agonizing shame. The executives looked away, unable to stomach the sheer depravity of what they were hearing.
I pressed a button on the remote in my pocket, stopping the audio.
"The audio files, the financial records of the wire transfers, and Marcus Vance's signed confession are already with the District Attorney," I said quietly. "You will be arrested alongside Stephen, Elise. Your assets are frozen. Your accounts are seized. You are completely, utterly broke."
"You ruined me!" Elise shrieked, finally dropping the mask entirely, her face twisting into a mask of pure, rabid hatred. She lunged across the table toward my throat, her fingernails clawing outward like talons.
Before she could touch me, Victor stepped in, grabbing her wrists with iron force and pinning her arms behind her back.
The second federal agent stepped up, clicking a second pair of handcuffs around her wrists.
"Elise Sterling, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit first-degree murder and racketeering," the agent recited calmly.
They dragged her screaming and kicking down the center aisle of the boardroom. The heavy double doors opened, and she was hauled out past the stunned reporters gathering in the hallway.
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The doors closed again.
Silence swallowed the room. Every pair of eyes in the boardroom turned to me. The executives who had bowed to Stephen just minutes ago sat paralyzed, waiting for the axe to fall.
