Chapter 7 - The Fall
The FBI raid on Arthur's estate happened at dawn on Sunday.
I watched it from the perimeter, sitting in the back of my SUV with Marcus. Heavily armed agents swarmed the manicured lawns, battering down the reinforced doors of the mansion.
Ten minutes later, they dragged him out. Arthur Vance, the titan of industry, looked small and frail in his silk pajamas, his hands cuffed behind his back. The arrogance had finally been stripped away, replaced by the stark terror of a man facing the consequences of his actions.
As they led him toward the armored transport, he spotted my SUV. He stopped, struggling against the agents, and locked eyes with me through the tinted glass.
I rolled down the window.
“You threw it all away!” Arthur screamed, his voice cracking, spittle flying from his lips. “Everything I built for you! You’re nothing without me!”
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“I’m a father,” I said quietly, the words carrying perfectly in the crisp morning air. “Something you never knew how to be.”
I rolled the window up, cutting off his frantic shouting, and nodded to Marcus. “Drive. Take me home.”
