Chapter 4 - THE SNARE TRAPThree days later, the news broke like a thunderclap across Manhattan’s elite society circles.
The Manhattan District Attorney’s office officially announced a grand jury indictment against Michael Whitaker for major grand larceny, corporate embezzlement, and tax fraud related to Aegis Tech.
The news spread like wildfire. Headlines read: "TECH PRODIGY ACCUSED OF $2.4M EMBEZZLEMENT FROM FATHER’S EMPIRE."
Michael had fled his temporary hotel and was hiding out in a dingy motel outside Queens, paying cash he had borrowed from an old college friend who hadn't heard the news yet.
Cassandra was nowhere to be found. The moment the indictment hit the news, she had locked herself in her parents' mansion, refusing to answer Michael’s frantic calls.
At 9:00 PM, Michael’s phone finally rang. It was an unlisted number.
He picked it up instantly. "Hello? Mom?! Mom, is that you?!"
"Michael."
The voice on the other end wasn't his mother. It was mine. Deep, steady, and utterly void of warmth.
"Dad!" Michael sobbed into the receiver, falling to his knees beside the stained motel bed. "Dad, please! I'm sorry! I don't know what happened to me! It was Cassandra! She pressured me! She was out of control about the wedding aesthetics! I was just stressed—"
"Save it, Michael," I cut him off smoothly. "I don't care about your excuses."
"Dad, the police are looking for me!" Michael cried, tears streaming down his unwashed face. "They say I could go to prison! You can stop this! You own the company! Just tell them it was an internal accounting error!"
"I could," I replied thoughtfully. "I have the power to drop the charges right now."
Michael gasped, hope lighting up his desperate eyes. "Yes! Please, Dad! I'll do anything! I'll divorce Cassandra tomorrow! I'll publicly apologize to Mom! I'll beg for her forgiveness on my knees!"
"If you want me to drop the charges," I said, my voice dropping an octave, "I need you to do one thing for me tonight."
"Anything, Dad! Name it!"
"Cassandra and her father think they can escape this unscathed," I lied, painting a narrative I knew his selfish brain would swallow whole. "Richard Sterling is currently trying to liquidate Cassandra’s pre-nuptial assets to protect them from my lawsuits. I want you to go to the Sterling estate tonight. I want you to retrieve the master hard drive from Richard’s safe—the one containing all of Cassandra’s off-shore asset declarations. Give me that, and I will clear your name and wipe your slate clean."
Michael didn't hesitate for a single second. He didn't care about throwing his bride or her family under the bus. Survival was his only instinct left.
"I'll get it," Michael spat, his voice laced with sudden venom toward the woman he had married three days ago. "I know the code to Richard’s home office. I'll get the drive to you by midnight."
"Good," I said softly. "I'll be waiting."
I hung up the phone and looked across my desk. Sitting in front of me was Captain Miller of the Nassau County Police Department.
"Did he take the bait, Mr. Whitaker?" Captain Miller asked, adjusting his hat.
"He's on his way to his in-laws' house right now," I said, leaning back in my chair. "He believes he's committing a corporate espionage job for me. In reality, he’s breaking and entering a private residence while armed with the knowledge of their security layout."
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"We'll have three units waiting around the perimeter," Captain Miller said, standing up. "He won't make it past the study."
I picked up my glass of scotch and held it up to the light. "Make sure the cameras are rolling, Captain. I want my son’s final downfall captured in 4K."
