Chapter 13 - Cornered Rats
Marcus Vance whipped around so fast his jacket flared, his eyes widening in pure shock as he stared at me standing in the doorway of the office. Beside him, Samantha let out a sharp, choked gasp, knocking her chair backward as she scrambled to put distance between herself and the desk.
“Sarah Miller?” Marcus stammered, his arrogant composure instantly evaporating into raw panic. “How the hell did you find this place?”
“Let’s just say your family has a terrible habit of leaving digital breadcrumbs,” I said, stepping further into the cramped office, keeping my voice completely level and cold.
Marcus recovered his footing quickly, a sneer twisting his features as he reached instinctively inside his jacket. “You shouldn't have come here alone, Mrs. Miller. You were lucky at the estate, but lightning doesn't strike twice.”
Before Marcus could pull his hand out of his jacket, the heavy metal door at the back of the warehouse burst open with a resounding crash.
“FBI! Federal Marshals! Drop the weapon!”
Detective Miller and three armed federal agents poured into the warehouse, their tactical gear and drawn weapons cutting through the dim light like a wall of steel.
Marcus froze, his hand still trapped inside his jacket. He looked from the federal badges to the barrels of three assault rifles pointed directly at his chest. Slowly, grudgingly, he pulled his empty hand out and raised it into the air.
“Smart choice,” Detective Miller said, striding across the room and slamming Marcus face-first onto the metal desk, slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists with brutal efficiency.
As federal agents swarmed the office, securing Marcus and pushing him toward the exit, Samantha shrank back against the filing cabinets, trembling violently, tears streaming down her face.
“I didn't want to do it!” Samantha sobbed, sliding down the side of the cabinet until she was sitting on the concrete floor, her hands covering her face. “Christopher said it was just an insurance policy! He said nobody would get hurt! He said we’d take the money and start over in Europe!”
I walked over and stopped a few feet away from her, looking down at the woman who had helped my husband orchestrate our destruction. There was no anger left in me—only a profound, hollow pity.
“He didn't care about you, Samantha,” I said quietly. “You were just another ledger entry to him. Just like I was.”
Samantha looked up, her mascara smeared across her cheeks, her voice breaking. “Are they going to put me away for the rest of my life?”
“That depends entirely on how cooperative you are with the federal prosecutor,” I replied, turning my back on her and walking out of the office.
As federal agents led Marcus and Samantha out into the harsh afternoon sunlight toward a pair of waiting black cruisers, Detective Miller walked up beside me, handing me a sealed manila envelope recovered from Samantha’s desk.
“You did good today, Sarah,” Miller said softly, watching the cruisers pull away. “The offshore trust documents. They’re signed. Every last dollar Arthur Vance tried to hide overseas is officially recovered.”
I took the envelope, holding it securely against my chest.
May you like
“Good,” I whispered, looking up at the grey sky as a cool breeze swept across the industrial lot. “Let’s take our money back.”
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