Chapter 4: The Final Supper
The night of the 'signing' was orchestrated like a Greek tragedy. A private chef was hired, candles were lit, and the finest red wine was decanted. Mark and Eleanor were in high spirits, believing the battle was won. They toasted to the future, to their 'brilliant' scheme.
"To the house," Mark chuckled, clinking his glass against Elena’s. "To the end of a long, expensive headache."
Elena sat at the marble table. She wore a simple black dress, sharp and composed. She watched them drink, their arrogance so thick it was suffocating. They spoke openly, their guard completely down, gloating about how they had tricked the banks and swindled the investors.
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"You really thought you could outsmart us?" Eleanor sneered, looking at Elena with pure, unadulterated hatred. "You were just the bridge we needed to cross the river. Now, the bridge is burned."
Elena didn't look back. She stared at the clock. 9:00 PM. She reached under the table, feeling the cold weight of her phone, and tapped 'SEND.' The data packet, containing the totality of their crimes, hit the precinct’s server with a digital thud that would change everything.
