Chapter 15 - The Iron Cell
The fluorescent lights of the Manhattan holding facility buzzed with a harsh, unyielding electrical hum. Inside holding cell 12B, Everett Vance sat on a stainless-steel bench, staring blankly at the reinforced concrete wall in front of him.
The heavy steel door swung open with a loud, metallic clatter. Two federal marshals stepped inside, their faces expressionless, their boots clicking sharply against the floor.
"Everett Vance?" the lead marshal demanded, holding out a set of heavy steel handcuffs. "You are being remanded into federal custody pending trial for wire fraud, corporate embezzlement, and securities tampering under federal docket number 88-402."
Everett didn't fight back. He didn't scream, nor did he threaten them with his nonexistent power or call upon lawyers who no longer answered his calls. He felt completely hollowed out, as if every ounce of his arrogance had been drained away, leaving only a pathetic shell of a man.
As the cold steel cuffs snapped tightly around his wrists, biting sharply into his skin, Everett lifted his head and caught his own distorted reflection in the small, reinforced glass window of the cell door.
May you like
For a split second, through the grime and the glare, he didn't see a CEO, a billionaire, or a master of the universe. He saw a frightened, small-town boy who had mistaken a lion for a kitten, poked a sleeping titan, and paid for his vanity with everything he ever was.
As the marshals hauled him out toward the subterranean transport vans, the cold rain of Manhattan poured down outside, washing away the last remnants of a ruined empire.
