Chapter 13 - Confronting Demons In San Francisco
Later that afternoon, I drove my personal vehicle up the winding residential streets toward Arthur’s Pacific Heights mansion.
The iron security gates stood wide open, surrounded by federal agents and moving trucks carting away assets.
I parked in the driveway and walked up the grand stone steps, stepping into the silent, echoing foyer.
Arthur sat alone on a velvet armchair in the living room, looking ten years older than he had the previous night.
He looked up as my combat boots clicked against the marble floor, his expression filled with bitter resentment.
“Are you here to gloat, Elena?” Arthur asked, his voice cracking with exhaustion.
May you like
“No, Arthur, I’m here to tell you that you brought all of this on yourself,” I answered evenly.
“You spent your whole life worshipping money and stepping on anyone you considered beneath you.”
