Chapter 5 - The Federal Warrant
The heavy oak door of the study swung open before Enzo could even reach for his weapon.
Marco stood in the doorway, his face pale beneath his tactical gear, holding a heavily encrypted mobile terminal.
"Federal marshals, Boss," Marco repeated, his voice tight. "Accompanied by two senior partners from Deloitte. They have a federal search and seizure warrant signed by a district judge twenty minutes ago."
Enzo didn’t flinch. His hand hovered near his hidden holster for a fraction of a second before he let it drop, his dark eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.
"A federal warrant at three o'clock in the morning for a private residence," Enzo said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. "Arthur Pendelton works fast."
"They're not just here to search the house," Marco added, looking directly past Enzo toward Beatrice. "They're looking for Miss Gallagher."
Beatrice stepped back, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Me? Why would federal marshals be looking for me?"
"Because," Enzo said, the pieces of the puzzle snapping together with terrifying clarity, "if Arthur Pendelton is the one bleeding my accounts, and he knew you were auditing the portfolio, the easiest way to silence a forensic auditor isn't a bullet in an alley."
"It's a federal indictment," Beatrice finished, the blood rushing in her ears. "They’re framing me for the embezzlement."
"Precisely," Enzo said. He turned to her, his expression unyielding, yet his voice carried a strange, intense urgency. "Pendelton filed a hurried affidavit claiming that you downloaded fifty thousand dollars in illicit funds into an overseas account right before fleeing your office tonight. They’ve turned you into the scapegoat."
Footsteps echoed heavily on the polished hardwood stairs outside the study—too many footsteps for a standard federal detail. They were moving with military precision.
"Boss, we have to move," Marco urged, stepping further into the room. "The back service stairwell leads down to the garage. We can be on the interstate before they clear the second-floor foyer."
Enzo didn't look at Marco. He kept his eyes locked on Beatrice, who stood paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of the trap closing in around her.
Her entire life—her career, her reputation, her safety—had just been obliterated in a single coordinated strike by a corrupt corporate machine she had trusted for years.
"Beatrice," Enzo said, his voice cutting through the rising panic in the room. He reached out, grabbing her by both shoulders, his grip warm and immovable. "Listen to me very carefully."
"I... I didn't steal anything," she stammered, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. "If the feds arrest me, I'll never get out. Pendelton's connections go all the way to the district courts."
"I know," Enzo said fiercely. "Which is why you are not going with them."
"Enzo, I can't run from federal marshals—"
"You aren't running," Enzo interrupted, his dark eyes burning with an intense, absolute resolve. "You're surviving. Marco, take the service elevator. Get her to the safehouse in Lake Forest."
"What about you?" Beatrice demanded, her hands flying up to grip his wrists. "If you stay here and confront them, they'll arrest you too—or worse."
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"Let them try," Enzo said, a cold, dangerous smile touching his lips. He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur meant only for her ears. "I'll handle the federal marshals. But you hold the key to the entire ledger, Beatrice. Do not let them take you."
Before Beatrice could argue another word, the heavy oak doors at the end of the hallway splintered with a deafening crash as federal flashbang grenades detonated in the foyer, filling the brownstone with blinding white light and thunderous sound.
