Chapter 9 - Skeletons in the Penthouse
Twenty-four hours later, the storm had finally passed, leaving the Chicago skyline crisp, cold, and clear beneath a pale blue autumn sky.
In the federal lockup at the Dirksen Federal Building, Victor Ward sat alone in an eight-by-ten interrogation cell.
The three-thousand-dollar bespoke suit had been stripped away, replaced by an ill-fitting orange jumpsuit made of rough polyester. His manicured hair was wild and unkempt. His hands, still bearing the faint red bruises from the handcuffs, rested flat on the steel table.
Across from him sat United States Attorney Sarah Vance—no relation to the cowardly defense lawyer who had fled the courtroom—accompanied by Colonel Miller.
On the table between them lay a mountain of evidence: bank statements, encrypted hard drives, wiretap transcripts, and a single, sealed white envelope containing the confession Eleanor Ward had signed three hours earlier.
"Your wife broke, Victor," Sarah Vance said calmly, flipping through the pages. "She gave up the numbered accounts in Liechtenstein. She gave up the names of the three senators on the defense subcommittee. She confirmed that you met with the foreign arms brokers in Vienna last summer."
Victor stared at the steel table. His eyes were dead, vacant, like two empty holes in a rotting wall.
"Eleanor was always weak," Victor rasped, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "She liked the jewelry. She liked the private jets. But she never had the stomach for what it takes to build a world."
"You didn't build a world, Mr. Ward," Colonel Miller said, leaning forward, his eyes burning with cold disgust. "You built a criminal cartel that murdered American soldiers. You murdered Captain Marcus Sterling—a brilliant man who served this country with honor—because he refused to let you sell compromised weapons systems to our enemies."
"He was an arrogant fool!" Victor snapped, a faint spark of his old rage flaring in his eyes. "He thought his little moral code was more important than the balance of global power! Ward Vanguard was the pillar of modern defense! Do you have any idea what happens when a company like mine collapses? Tens of thousands of jobs! Billions of dollars in capital!"
"Ward Vanguard isn't collapsing, Victor," Sarah Vance interrupted smoothly.
Victor blinked, confused. "What?"
"Under the emergency provisions of the Defense Production Act, the Department of Defense has placed the company into federal receivership," Sarah explained, tapping her pen against the final page of the file. "The voting shares previously held in trust for Leo Sterling-Ward have been legally transferred to his legal guardian: Captain Elena Ward."
Victor’s mouth opened slightly.
"She is now the controlling authority of the board of directors," Sarah continued. "Her first act this morning was to terminate the entire executive committee, dissolve your private security division, and turn over all internal research files on Marcus’s software to the public domain. The Pentagon will have the encryption keys. The backdoors you built have been permanently deleted."
Victor slumped back against the cold steel chair.
The last pillar of his life—his life’s work, the monument to his own godlike ego—had been dismantled. Not by a foreign power. Not by a corporate rival.
By the daughter he had dismissed as a pawn.
"Does she... does she want to see me?" Victor whispered, looking up at the two federal officials with a sudden, pathetic desperation. "Tell her I want to see her. Tell her... tell her she’s still my daughter."
Colonel Miller stood up, closing his leather folder with a sharp snap.
"Captain Ward resigned her commission two hours ago, Mr. Ward," the Colonel said coldly. "She isn't an operative anymore. She isn't your daughter. She’s just a mother who took out the trash."
May you like
Miller turned and walked out of the cell, leaving Victor Ward sitting alone in the fluorescent glare, surrounded by the silence of his own ruined world.
***
