Chapter 8 - The Cost of Greed
Preston was hauled up from the floor, crying openly like a terrified child. His broken arm hung limp, and his expensive tuxedo was soaked in mud, blood, and spilled wine.
"Dad! Dad, do something!" Preston wailed, fighting against the operator's iron grip. "Tell them who we are!"
Julian couldn't speak. He was pushed down onto his knees beside his son, his face pale as chalk. The zip-ties bit deep into his wrists. For thirty years, Julian had bought judges, bribed inspectors, and crushed competitors with impunity. In ten short minutes, the empire he built had been obliterated—all because he thought a quiet retired mechanic and his daughter were easy targets.
Sheriff Tom Pike was marched out alongside them, his badge stripped from his chest and tossed onto the floor like trash.
The guests watched in horrified silence as the town's undisputed royalty were paraded out through the shattered entrance like common street criminals.
Marcus turned to the gathered elites in the room. His gaze was sweeping and unsparing.
"You sat here," Marcus said, his voice ringing through the ruined room. "You drank their wine. You watched a young woman get cornered and humiliated. Not one of you stood up. Not one of you dialed 911."
A prominent local judge bowed his head in shame. Several corporate board members looked down at their polished shoes, unable to meet Marcus’s gaze.
"Remember this night," Marcus continued. "Because every single financial ledger, tax write-off, and dirty deal Julian Beaumont ever signed with anyone in this room is being mirrored onto Department of Justice servers right now. I’d suggest you all hire very good defense attorneys."
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With that, Marcus turned his back on them. He put his arm around Claire’s shoulders.
"Let’s go home, sweetheart."
