Chapter 3

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The iron gates of the federal holding facility in downtown Atlanta slammed shut with a heavy, metallic clang that echoed through the concrete corridors.
Inside a sterile, windowless interrogation room, Richard Carrington sat handcuffed to a steel table, wearing an orange jumpsuit instead of his usual tailored suit.
His polished hair was completely disheveled, his eyes bloodshot from hours of non-stop weeping, and his expensive gold tie clip was gone.
Across the table sat Federal Prosecutor Sarah Jenkins, a sharp, cold woman who specialized in high-level corporate treason and asset seizure.
Beside her, leaning quietly against the reinforced concrete wall with his arms crossed, was Marcus Vance.
"Mr. Carrington," Prosecutor Jenkins began, opening a thick leather binder stuffed with hundreds of pages of financial evidence.
"Your primary defense fund has been seized under the Espionage and Economic Containment Act."
"You have been assigned a public defender by the state of Georgia."
"A public defender?!" Richard shrieked, his voice echoing off the concrete walls like a wounded animal.
"I am a managing partner of Carrington Capital! My legal defense retainer is five million dollars!"
"Correction, Mr. Carrington," Jenkins stated flatly, tapping a red pen against the legal documents.
"Carrington Capital was dissolved at 4:00 PM yesterday afternoon."
"All physical assets, bank holdings, and property titles have been converted into federal receivership pending trial."
Richard turned his head frantically toward Marcus Vance, who remained silent, watching him like a predator observing a trapped rat.
"Marcus! Please!" Richard begged, slamming his handcuffed hands against the steel table in pure desperation.
"I'm sorry! I swear to God I'm sorry! I didn't hit Elena! It was Victoria who slapped her!"
"I tried to stop her! You know I love Elena! She’s carrying my child!"
Marcus took a slow step forward, the heavy soles of his military boots making a loud, rhythmic sound against the concrete floor.
He leaned over the table, bringing his face inches away from Richard’s pale, sweat-covered forehead.
"You stood behind your sister while she put her hands on my daughter," Marcus said softly, his voice devoid of any warmth.
"You called me a handyman. You told me to know my place."
"You laughed while my daughter was on her knees surrounded by shattered glass, crying for her unborn baby."
"Marcus, please! I'll sign anything! I'll give up all rights to the family money! Just let me see my wife!" Richard sobbed hysterically.
Marcus pulled a single sheet of paper from his coat pocket and slid it across the cold steel table.
It was a complete, unconditional divorce decree and a full waiver of all parental rights regarding Elena’s unborn child.
"Sign the paper, Richard," Marcus instructed quietly.
"If you sign it, you will serve twenty years in a medium-security facility for financial fraud."
"If you refuse to sign it..." Marcus leaned in closer, his eyes flashing with a terrifying, ancient light,
"I will personally transfer your trial to a military tribunal in Guantanamo Bay under National Security Directive 44."
Richard gasped, his chest heaving as tears of absolute terror poured down his face.
He realized with absolute certainty that Marcus Vance was not offering a negotiation.
He was granting him a mercy that Richard had never earned.
With shaking hands, Richard picked up the cheap plastic pen provided by the guard, his fingers trembling so hard he could barely hold it.
He pressed the point to the paper, signing his name across the line, surrendering his marriage, his child, his wealth, and his entire future in a single stroke.
Marcus picked up the signed document, carefully inspected the signature, and folded it neatly into his pocket.
"Thank you, Richard," Marcus said, turning toward the heavy steel door.
"Where... where is Victoria?" Richard rasped out, his voice broken and hollow.
Marcus paused at the doorway, looking back over his shoulder with a cold, unbothered expression.
"Victoria is currently in a high-security federal remand center in Texas," Marcus revealed calmly.
"She tried to strike a federal agent during her arrest."
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"She won't be sipping champagne under lawn tents for a very, very long time."
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