Chapter 23 - The Desperate Plea
Chloe’s face drained of what little color it had left, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as the reality of my words sank in. She had spent years looking down on me, mocking my faded clothes, laughing at my calloused hands, and treating me like an indentured servant while she lived in a fool's paradise built on stolen money. Now, standing on the very porch where she had once humiliated me in front of her friends, her empire was crumbling into dust before her eyes. Trent pushed past her, stepping forward with a pathetic, desperate attempt at intimidation that fell flat against my stone-cold stare. "Listen to me, Maya," Trent stammered, his voice lacking its usual arrogant swagger. "We can make a deal. Family is family, right? If you just call off your agents, tell them it was a clerical error, we can split the remaining offshore accounts. We can walk away—"
"Split the offshore accounts?" I interrupted, my voice sharp enough to draw blood. I took a slow step forward, towering over him despite my smaller stature. The sheer aura of command I had cultivated over years of undercover federal investigations radiated off me, freezing him in his tracks. "Trent, you don't even own the shirt on your back anymore. Every asset, every car, every square foot of that overpriced suburban house you bullied me in front of—it's already seized under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. You're looking at federal penitentiary time, and unlike your previous get-out-of-jail-free cards, this one is sealed by order of the Director."
Chloe dropped to her knees on the marble steps, bursting into loud, ugly tears as the final illusion of her superiority shattered completely. "Please, Maya! Please have mercy on us! Think of Mom! If she finds out we're going to prison, her heart—" I cut her off with a wave of my hand, signaling the black-and-white federal vehicles that were now silently rolling through the open gates, their lights flashing without sirens. "Mom knew about every single wire transfer, Chloe. The audit trail doesn't lie, and neither do her signed deposit slips. You made your bed. Now lie in it."
