Chapter 5 - The Knock on the Door
The federal prosecutor’s office didn't waste time once Arthur made the call.
By Tuesday afternoon, the sky over Chicago had turned a bruised, metallic gray as a fresh wave of sleet swept in from the lake. I was sitting in Arthur’s private study on the fiftieth floor, reviewing the quarterly energy reports for our Midwest wind grid, when Julian knocked softly on the open door and stepped inside.
"Ms. Bennett," Julian said, his face expressionless. "You have a visitor downstairs in the lobby security suite. Refuses to leave."
I didn't need to ask who it was.
"Is he alone?" I asked.
"Completely," Julian replied. "No attorneys. No PR agents. Just an expensive suit, ruined hair, and a level of desperation that's starting to make the building lobby guards nervous."
Arthur looked up from his desk, starting to speak, but I held up a hand, stopping him.
"Let him come up, Julian," I said softly. "I want to finish this conversation where it started."
Ten minutes later, the private elevator chimed softly.
The heavy glass doors slid open, and Ryan Mercer stumbled out into the penthouse foyer. The man who had sat arrogantly across the walnut table in the law office four days ago was completely gone. His navy suit was rumpled, his tie loosened, and dark, exhausted circles bruised the skin beneath his bloodshot eyes.
He took two unsteady steps toward the study, stopping when he saw me sitting by the window with the Chicago skyline framed behind my shoulder.
"Claire," he choked out, his voice cracking with a mixture of raw fury and humiliating defeat. "You did this. You planned every single second of it."
I didn't stand up. I simply looked at him, my expression as cold and immovable as the concrete walls around us.
"No, Ryan," I said, my voice cutting cleanly through the silence of the room. "I just waited for you to build a house of cards high enough that a slight breeze would knock it down."
Ryan lunged forward, his face twisting into a mask of ugly desperation, but before he could take another step, two men in dark suits stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, their heavy hands clamping firmly onto his shoulders.
At that exact second, the elevator chimes rang out again.
May you like
The doors opened to reveal three federal agents in trench coats, led by a senior investigator holding an open warrant bearing a federal judge’s signature.
Ryan froze, the color draining entirely from his face as the investigator stepped forward, holding out the glittering steel handcuffs.
