Chapter 7 - The Flash of the CamerasThe heavy metallic click of handcuffs echoed sharply through the quiet house, cutting through the heavy tension like a knife.
"Grant Monroe, you have the right to remain silent..." the deputy’s voice droned on, formal and detached, reading off the rights that Grant had spent a lifetime believing applied only to other people—to people who weren't smart enough, rich enough, or powerful enough to outrun the system.
Two officers pulled Grant to his feet. He offered no resistance. His arms were pinned behind his back, his expensive designer shirt wrinkled and damp from the melting snow he had tracked in earlier that morning. As they dragged him past the Christmas tree—past the glittering lights, the colorful ornaments, and the stockings hanging neatly from the mantel—his eyes met Lily’s.
Lily didn't look away. Her gaze was steady, clear, and devoid of tears. She didn't look angry anymore; she just looked like a child who finally understood that the monster hiding under the bed had been dragged out into the light.
"Daddy," Noah whispered quietly from beside Evelyn. It wasn't a cry of grief, but a quiet acknowledgment of finality.
Grant stopped for a fraction of a second, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something—an apology, a threat, a final plea for mercy. But the words died in his throat. The cameras outside flashed continuously, illuminating the foyer in rapid, blinding pulses of white light.
"Move along, Mr. Monroe," the deputy instructed firmly, guiding him toward the open front door.
As Grant was led out onto the snowy stone steps, the wall of reporters surged forward. Microphones were thrust into the freezing air, flashing bulbs illuminated the falling snow like a swarm of angry fireflies, and shouted questions echoed across the front lawn.
“Mr. Monroe, is it true you embezzled four million dollars from Bellamy Holdings?” “Did you use company funds to finance your mistress?” “Mr. Monroe, do you have any comment on the federal indictment?”
May you like
Grant kept his head down, his face hidden in the shadow of his coat collar as the police cruiser’s red and blue emergency lights flashed against the white winter landscape, painting the pristine snow in jarring shades of crimson and azure.
Inside the foyer, the heavy oak door slowly swung shut, muffling the chaotic noise of the outside world.
Related Stories
