Chapter 17

Eleanor looked older, her skin pale and her eyes burning with a desperate, trapped fury as she picked up the audio receiver.
"You think you've won, Ethan? You've just signed your own death warrant by digging into the syndicate's accounts," Eleanor hissed.
"Tell me who runs the Swiss accounts, Mother, and maybe I can convince the prosecutor to spare you the death penalty," Ethan countered.
May you like
Eleanor let out a dry, chilling laugh that echoed harshly through the small, sterile visiting booth.
"They don't have names, Ethan; they own the judges, the politicians, and the very air you breathe in this country."