Chapter 4: The Architect of Ruin
The silence of the farmhouse was shattered by the gravel crunch of tires. Black SUVs. Arthur Thorne had followed them.
Isabella stood on the porch, her mother trembling behind her. Arthur stepped out of the lead vehicle, his suit tailored, his face a mask of disappointment. "You really should have stayed at the wedding, Isabella. You had a future as a Thorne."
"You monster," Isabella spat, pulling out her phone. She had already live-streamed the confession on a private feed she had set up the moment she left the cathedral. Thousands of people, including the press and federal investigators, were watching the screen.
Arthur scoffed. "You think anyone cares? I own the judges. I own the press."
"You own the past," Isabella said, her voice steadying. "But you don't own the present. Look at your son."
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Julian had pulled up behind his father, his face wet with tears. He had followed them, not to help his father, but to end him. He held up a digital recorder. "I’ve been recording you for a year, Dad. Every conversation about the 'accident,' every offshore account used to hide Mom, every threat against Isabella’s family. It’s all on the cloud. It’s with the SEC."
Arthur’s face contorted. The predator was trapped.
