My Political Business Partner Cornered Me Outside Court While 7 Months Pregnant — He Didn't Realize His Security Chief Was Working For Me
Raymond Finch stood frozen, his hand hovering over the stack of fraudulent documents. His eyes were wide, darting between me and Marcus, who was now leaning heavily against his desk, breathing in ragged gasps.
“On camera?” Marcus choked out, his voice a strained whisper. “What camera?”
“Every legislative office at the Capitol is equipped with internal security protocols,” I explained, gesturing vaguely towards the ceiling. “Audio and visual, Marcus. For your ‘security.’ And for mine.”
Just then, the heavy oak door burst open.
Uniformed federal marshals streamed into the office, their faces stern, hands resting on their holstered weapons. Behind them, Assistant Prosecutor Diane O’Connor and Detective Frank Callahan entered, their expressions grim.
“Raymond Finch,” Detective Callahan announced, his voice booming through the sudden silence. “You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit bank fraud, wire fraud, and falsification of state documents.”
Finch shrieked, a high, thin sound that was startling in its terror. He dropped the brief, papers scattering across the polished floor.
“Bank fraud alone carries a sentence of up to twenty years,” Diane O’Connor added, her eyes fixed on Finch. “And we have ample evidence, Mr. Finch. Including your personal offshore accounts and the falsified land deeds.”
Finch’s face crumpled. His knees buckled, and he sagged against the wall, a weeping, pathetic figure. The air filled with his desperate, gasping sobs.
“No! No, I didn’t! He made me!” Finch wailed, pointing a trembling finger at Marcus. “Hollister! He told me what to do! He set up all the companies! The Cayman accounts! He planned it all!”
Marcus stared, his mouth agape. His empire was crumbling, and his most loyal enabler was openly betraying him.
“He threatened me!” Finch sobbed. “Said he’d ruin me, ruin my family, if I didn’t comply!”
Detective Callahan stepped forward, cuffing Finch’s shaking hands behind his back. “Mr. Hollister, you’re coming with us too.”
Marcus’s eyes finally landed on me, a look of pure, unadulterated hatred contorting his features. He said nothing, but the venom in his gaze was palpable.
Two marshals moved toward Marcus, their movements swift and decisive. His reign of terror was over, at least for now. The room was a whirlwind of official movements and hushed commands.
I watched as they led Finch away, still blubbering, then Marcus, stoic now but with fear flickering in his eyes. The last I saw of him was his receding back, his once-powerful shoulders now slumped in defeat.
The silence that followed their departure was profound, broken only by my own shaky breath. The trap was sprung.
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