Chapter 3 - THE LAWYER'S STRIKE"Eleanor?!" Julian shouted, his face turning a dark, bruised shade of red. "What are you doing here?! You work for the Voss family! Get these marshals out of our building immediately!"
"I worked for Margaret Voss for forty years, Julian," Eleanor replied coldly, walking over to the conference table and placing her leather portfolio down with a sharp thud. "I never worked for you. And right now, by order of the federal grand jury, you are trespassing in a facility you no longer control."
Celia shrieked, marching up to the lead federal marshal. "This is a civil dispute! You have no right—"
"Actually, Mrs. Henderson, we have every right," the lead marshal interrupted, pulling a thick stack of arrest warrants from his vest pocket. "Conspiracy to commit murder, tampering with a federally regulated medication supply, attempted vehicular homicide, and grand corporate wire fraud."
Marcus stumbled backward, hitting the glass wall of the office. "Murder? What are you talking about?! Mother died of a heart attack!"
The office television screens suddenly flickered to life.
Instead of stock tickers, high-definition video footage began playing across the massive monitors. It showed Julian’s personal assistant handing a forged prescription form to a terrified pharmacist. Then it cut to security footage from my garage, clearly showing Marcus tampering with the rear brake line of my Bentley three nights before the staged crash.
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Finally, the audio recording of their dinner conversation played in crystal-clear surround sound: “Mother, you should stop fighting age. Sign the voting proxy…”
The room fell into an absolute, suffocating dead silence.
