Chapter 3: The Siege of Cedar Hill
The mansion was no longer a place of triumph; it was a cage. The family realized that their phones were blocked from making outgoing calls to their lawyers. As they scrambled toward the exit, the sound of heavy tires crunched against the gravel driveway.
It wasn't a taxi. It was a fleet of black SUVs with federal insignia.
"FBI! Don't move!"
Armed agents swarmed the lawn, their boots thundering as they breached the mahogany doors. Eleanor sat in her car a hundred yards away, watching through the darkened glass. She had sent the location of the true prize to the Bureau an hour ago.
The ring they had stolen was just a distraction—a cheap, costume-jewelry replica she’d had made months ago specifically for this moment. It was bait to keep them occupied and arrogant while the authorities closed in on the real crime.
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"They're going down to the basement, aren't they?" the driver asked, looking at Eleanor through the rearview mirror.
"They're going to find exactly what they deserve," Eleanor replied. "The servers, the black-market tech trades, the illegal lobbyist ledgers. My father spent his whole life building this, but he never realized that I was the one who kept the keys."
