Chapter 6 - The Confession at the TableAbsolute silence descended upon the private booth. The ambient jazz music playing softly in the restaurant suddenly felt deafening.
Daniel turned pale, his hand trembling as he gripped his silverware. “Claire, you are making a scene. Stop this right now or go out to the car.”
“She’s not making a scene, Daniel,” Richard Vance said slowly, his eyes narrowing as he looked between us. “What does she mean she didn't sign?”
I reached into my leather portfolio, pulled out three certified copies of the forensic audit and court injunction, and laid them neatly across the white linen tablecloth.
“She means,” I answered, leaning forward with icy composure, “that the signature on your collateral loan documents is a digital forgery. Furthermore, Mercer-Hart Holdings has been officially flagged by the federal banking commission for fraudulent asset encumbrance, and all lines of credit tied to my father’s trust have been frozen as of 3:00 PM today.”
Victor slammed his fist against the table, rattling the wine glasses. “You psychotic bitch! You’ve ruined us!”
Before Victor could lunge across the table, two federal marshals in plainclothes stepped out from the shadows beside our booth, flashing their badges with quiet authority.
“Daniel Mercer. Victor Mercer,” the lead marshal announced loudly. “You are both placed under arrest for federal wire fraud, identity forgery, and conspiracy to commit financial extortion.”
May you like
Panic erupted in the booth.
Richard Vance shoved his chair back so hard it crashed against the partition wall, scrambling away from the table as if we carried a plague.
