Chapter 8 - THE TRAP IS SPRUNG
With the public screaming for Victor’s head, the federal authorities could no longer look the other way.
The FBI raided Sterling Real Estate headquarters at dawn. But Victor wasn't there. He was a cornered animal, and cornered animals always go back to their dens.
My phone vibrated. It was a text from Victor. Come to the Sterling Estate alone. Bring the ledger. If you call the feds, I’ll burn the house down and flee the country. Let’s end this like men.
“You can't go,” Harrison warned me, his head wrapped in bandages. “It’s a suicide mission.”
“He’s right. It is,” I said, checking the heavy revolver my private security had handed me. “But I made a promise to my wife.”
I drove to the sprawling, gated Sterling Estate on the edge of Lake Michigan. The iron gates were open. The massive mansion was entirely dark.
I walked through the grand mahogany doors, the heavy satchel slung over my shoulder.
“Victor!” I called out, my voice echoing off the marble floors.
“You’re a fool, Leo,” a voice hissed from the top of the grand staircase.
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Victor stood there, holding a shotgun. He looked deranged, his designer suit wrinkled, his eyes bloodshot. “You ruined everything. I built this company!”
“You stole it,” I replied calmly, my hand resting on the revolver in my coat pocket. “And Eleanor took it back.”
