Chapter 4 - THE BROTHER’S BREAKING POINTThe psychological blow seemed to fracture my father faster than the financial evidence. He stopped thrashing against the admirals, his body going slack as the realization set in that his empire was beyond saving.
But the damage wasn't contained to him alone.
My brother, Julian, staggered backward, bumping into a tier of expensive hors d'oeuvres that crashed to the floor. His eyes were wide, glassy, and fixed on the glowing spreadsheet.
"No... no, no, no," Julian muttered, shaking his head frantically. "I signed those transfer orders. Dad, you said they were standard corporate restructurings for tax optimization! You said my signature was just a formality because I was vice president!"
My father shot him a look of absolute disgust. "You stupid, spineless idiot. I put your name on those documents specifically so I would have a scapegoat if the feds ever came knocking. You were my insurance policy."
The confession hung in the Christmas air like poison gas.
Julian’s knees buckled. He fell to the floor among the shattered canapés, his hands clutching his head as he sobbed hysterically. The golden boy of the Callaway family—the Harvard MBA who had never worked a day in his life without a silver spoon in his mouth—had just been fed to the wolves by his own father.
May you like
Mayor Whitcomb shook her head in profound disgust. She signaled to the entrance doors, where two uniformed state troopers stepped inside, their hands resting on their holster straps.
"Robert Callaway, Julian Callaway," Mayor Whitcomb announced formally, her voice echoing with judicial finality. "You are both being placed under interim federal arrest pending the execution of the full indictments. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
