Chapter 2 - The Setup
The back of the armored transport van smelled like stale coffee and ozone.
Every violent jolt of the tires sent fresh waves of agony radiating through my stomach.
I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed to God that my baby was strong enough to survive this nightmare.
Agent Mercer sat across from me in the dim, red emergency light.
His face was a chilling mask of absolute professional indifference.
"You sat in my living room and promised me full immunity," I whispered.
"I handed you the cartel ledgers."
"I gave you the offshore routing numbers that could put Arthur away for life."
Mercer casually checked a text message on his encrypted phone.
"You gave me a lot of very useful things, Mrs. Vance," he replied without looking up.
"But your father-in-law gave me something significantly better."
My heart plummeted straight into my stomach.
The billionaire patriarch had somehow discovered my secret operation.
He had simply used his limitless fortune to outbid the federal government.
The armored van abruptly slammed on its heavy brakes.
I knew immediately that we were not at the downtown FBI field office.
The heavy steel doors swung open to reveal a damp, private underground parking garage.
Two massive men in unmarked black suits hauled me out of the van by my arms.
They dragged me mercilessly toward a heavily secured freight elevator.
"Where are you taking me?" I demanded, kicking my feet against the concrete.
Mercer followed closely behind us with a smug expression.
"We are taking you to the family vault," he said flatly.
The grated elevator doors hissed and slid shut.
We descended deep into the earth for what felt like an eternity.
When the doors finally opened, I gasped in sheer terror.
Julian was casually waiting for me in a sterile, brightly lit concrete room.
He held a thick stack of legal documents in his manicured hand.
"Welcome back to the real world, Jules," he sneered.
He tossed the heavy stack of papers onto a metal interrogation table.
They were fully executed, notarized banking transfer deeds.
"You didn't just try to steal from my father," Julian said with a wicked, triumphant grin.
"According to these verified documents, you personally funneled sixty million dollars into a Sinaloa cartel account."
He leaned in close enough for me to smell the peppermint on his breath.
"The FBI isn't coming to save you today."
"They are just here to hand you over to the dangerous people you supposedly stole from."
The heavy iron door behind Julian slowly swung open.
A heavily scarred, terrifyingly calm man stepped into the room.
He was the ruthless cartel enforcer I had been investigating for the past year.
May you like
Julian smiled warmly and patted the dangerous man on the shoulder.
"She's all yours now, Marcos," my husband whispered.
