Chapter 8 - Watching the arrogant pianist beg for mercy inside a federal holding cell while his dream of high-society dominance shatters into tiny pieces.
Inside the stark, fluorescent-lit federal holding facility downtown, Julian sat on a steel bench wearing an orange detainee jumpsuit.
His dark slicked-back hair was disheveled, and the navy blue velvet dinner jacket was replaced by a standard prison identification tag.
The heavy steel door rattled open, and his high-priced defense attorney stepped into the visitation booth with a grim, defeated expression.
"Julian, the federal prosecutor has over four thousand pages of forensic evidence proving you stole the sheet music and forged corporate documents," the lawyer said.
"Get me a plea deal! Call Elena, tell her I'll give up the music rights, tell her anything!" Julian stammered, slamming his cuffed fists on the table.
"She isn't taking calls, Julian; the judge already denied bail due to your active flight risk and offshore assets in the Cayman Islands," the lawyer replied.
Julian buried his face in his hands, finally realizing that his charm, tattoos, and arrogant smiles could never buy his way out of federal prison.
The illusion of his untouchable elite status was completely gone, leaving him facing a mandatory twenty-year sentence for white-collar crimes.
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Outside the window, the New York skyline glittered indifferently, proving that the city belonged to the relentless, not the fraudulent.
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