CHAPTER 4
The paramedics carefully wheeled my stretcher out toward the awaiting medical transport, giving me a front-row view of the massive federal raid unfolding across my driveway.
News crews from local Chicago outlets like WGN and ABC7 were already arriving, flashing camera lenses through the wrought-iron security gates.
Grant was led down the stone steps in handcuffs, his expensive suit wrinkled, his head bowed as reporters yelled questions about Whitmore Capital's sudden collapse.
Vanessa and Brooke were escorted right behind him, weeping hysterically as federal agents loaded dozens of evidence boxes into black government SUVs.
While the ambulance transported me back to the specialized orthopedic trauma center at Northwestern Memorial Hospital, my legal team was already executing the second phase of our strategy.
My lead attorney, Arthur Vance, was waiting for me in a private room on the ninth floor, holding a tablet displaying real-time financial tracking networks.
"Mara, the poison-pill protocol worked flawlessly," Arthur informed me with a proud grin as the nurses adjusted my pain medication IV. "Every single dollar Grant transferred to his pregnant girlfriend's accounts in the Cayman Islands has been intercepted and frozen."
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"And Celia?" I asked, looking up at the ceiling monitors showing federal vehicles pulling up to a luxury high-rise condo in Lincoln Park.
"Federal agents served her with an asset seizure warrant twenty minutes ago," Arthur stated coldly. "She was forced to vacate the penthouse you paid for, and every gift Grant bought her with corporate funds has been impounded."
