Chapter 6
Back at the grand estate, absolute chaos had descended upon the once-peaceful courtyard. Three federal black-and-white SUVs were parked haphazardly across the manicured gravel driveway, their emergency lights flashing strobes of red and blue.
Uniformed federal marshals marched up the grand marble steps, their heavy boots echoing through the portico. Two agents banged authoritatively on the massive oak front door.
Julian stood inside the cavernous hallway, staring blankly at the shattered glass of his smartphone lying on the floor. His burgundy velvet jacket was rumpled, his tie loosened, and his arrogant demeanor completely shattered.
The front door swung open violently under the force of the federal warrant, splintering the antique brass lock. Three heavily armed agents swarmed into the hallway, weapons lowered but posture intensely defensive.
"Julian Vance! Step away from the wall and place your hands behind your head immediately!" the lead marshal commanded, his voice echoing off the high ceilings.
Julian blinked against the harsh flashing lights, his mind struggling to process the rapid descent of his entire world. "You are making a massive mistake. Do you know who I am? I am personal friends with senators!"
"Right now, you are federal suspect number four in a multi-million-dollar corporate racketeering case," the marshal stated coldly, stepping forward with zip-ties ready. "Turn around and interlock your fingers behind your back."
Julian instinctively tried to retreat toward the back study, but a second agent cut off his escape path instantly. There was no way out, no escape hatch, and no bribe large enough to buy his way out of this trap.
With brutal, mechanical efficiency, the federal agents forced Julian against the marble wall, snapping the plastic restraints tightly around his wrists. The expensive burgundy velvet of his jacket dragged against the dusty floor.
"This is madness! Elena will pay for this!" Julian screamed in sudden, furious panic, his composure finally cracking entirely into desperate rage. "She can't do this to me!"
"Save it for the magistrate in the morning," the lead marshal replied indifferently, hauling Julian upright by his biceps. "You have the right to remain silent."
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They dragged him out through the grand entrance doors, past the framed US flag that now seemed like a symbol of his ultimate judgment. The flashing red and blue lights illuminated his pale, defeated face for the neighborhood to see.
News vans from local Washington stations were already pulling up outside the gates, capturing every humiliating second of the billionaire's sudden downfall. The morning headlines would shake Wall Street to its core.
