Chapter 9
Back in New York, the federal detention center held Richard Davidson in a high-security holding cell awaiting arraignment.
His expensive watch and cufflinks had been confiscated, leaving him dressed in a standard orange jumpsuit that felt humiliating.
His defense attorney sat across the metal table, flipping frantically through pages of seized offshore financial records.
"The prosecution has an airtight case, Richard... every single shell company has been traced directly to your signature," his lawyer warned grimly.
"Find a loophole! That's what I pay you millions of dollars for!" Richard shouted, slamming his fist against the metal table.
"There are no loopholes when the Department of Justice is backed by the federal attorney general's personal oversight," the lawyer sighed.
Richard slumped back into his chair, his arrogance finally shattering into a pool of bitter, helpless despair.
He realized too late that his daughter hadn't just defeated him; she had systematically dismantled his entire empire.
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The realization stung worse than any physical blow, leaving him completely paralyzed in the cold confinement of his cell.
And as the heavy steel door locked behind his attorney, Richard sat in total, inescapable darkness.
