Chapter 7 - Dawn at the Federal Plaza
The autumn wind whipped bitterly off Lake Michigan as we stepped out of Richard’s sedan outside the Dirksen Federal Courthouse at 8:30 AM.
The plaza was already bustling with commuters, lawyers, and journalists rushing to escape the cold. But by pure coincidence—or rather, because Eleanor Vance always traveled like a head of state—a fleet of black luxury town cars was just pulling up to the main entrance.
Eleanor stepped out of the lead vehicle, flanked by her chief legal counsel and three public relations specialists. She looked immaculate in a tailored charcoal wool coat, her silver hair styled to absolute perfection. She had clearly spent the night mobilizing damage control after my catastrophic resignation at O'Hare.
Then, she saw us.
She stopped dead in her tracks at the top of the granite steps. Her eyes darted from Richard—her long-banished brother-in-law—to me, and finally down to Evelyn, who was holding Leo’s hand tightly while I carried his sleeping brother, Noah, in my arms.
"Marcus," Eleanor hissed, cutting through the morning crowd like a knife, her PR team scrambling to keep up. "Have you completely lost your mind? Dragging these vagrants to a federal building? Do you have any idea what kind of scandal you are inviting?"
"The scandal is already out, Mother," I said, stepping up the stairs, placing myself firmly between her and Evelyn. My voice was calm, steady, and devoid of the hesitant deference I had shown her my entire life. "You committed identity fraud, forgery, and extortion. And the federal prosecutor’s office is currently reviewing every single page of the dossier Uncle Richard and I compiled last night."
Eleanor’s face turned the color of old parchment. She glanced wildly at Richard, who gave her a bright, mocking wave with his leather notebook.
"You wouldn't," Eleanor whispered, her voice trembling with venomous disbelief. "You would destroy your own family name? Everything your father built?"
"My father built a hotel empire on hospitality and integrity," I replied, my eyes locking onto hers without flinching. "You turned it into a prison. And the doors just got blown off the hinges."
May you like
Before Eleanor could spit out another retort, the glass doors of the federal courthouse slid open. Two men in dark suits—senior investigators from the Securities and Exchange Commission, accompanied by a federal marshal—stepped out onto the landing.
"Mrs. Eleanor Vance?" the lead investigator asked, flashing a gold badge. "We have a warrant for your arrest regarding allegations of corporate fraud, falsification of legal documents, and interstate coercion. Please come with us."
