Chapter 7 - THE PREDATOR BECOMES THE PREYI answered the phone on speaker, placing it flat on the metal desk so Rosa could listen.
"Edward," Harold’s voice boomed through the room, dripping with arrogant triumph. "I hope you enjoyed your little boat ride. The federal marshals are executing a search warrant for your arrest right now. It's over."
"Is it, Harold?" I replied, my voice remarkably steady.
There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. I could hear the faint sound of champagne glasses clinking in the background.
"You sound awfully calm for a man whose life is completely incinerated," Harold mocked.
"I'm calm," I said, "because I'm currently looking at a live feed of your federal prosecutor friend panicking in a police holding room while the DOJ records his confession to obstruction of justice."
The clinking of glasses stopped instantly.
"What did you say?" Harold's voice dropped its smug veneer, turning sharp and cold.
"You thought you were the only chess player in Miami, Harold," I said, leaning back in my chair and looking at Rosa, who gave me a nod of approval. "You thought you could drain my accounts, stage a fake bankruptcy, and walk away with my towers. But you forgot one simple rule of construction: if the foundation is built on lies, the whole building eventually crashes down on top of you."
"You're bluffing," Harold hissed, though panic was bleeding through his words. "You have nothing! The police have the cash, the ledgers, everything!"
"They have what Rosa wanted them to find," I replied smoothly. "And right now, federal agents are walking through the front doors of your penthouse with a signed warrant for racketeering, embezzlement, and conspiracy."
On monitor four, we watched in real-time as the elevators to Harold’s luxury penthouse opened. Three squads of heavily armed federal agents poured out, weapons drawn, marching straight toward his double mahogany doors.
We heard Harold curse furiously on the phone line.
"Edward! Wait, listen to me—we can make a deal! We can split the—"
May you like
I tapped the red end-call button, cutting him off mid-sentence.
The room fell completely silent, save for the rhythmic clicking of the computer servers humming against the walls.
