Chapter 15 - Behind BarsThe federal holding facility was cold, sterile, and entirely devoid of luxury.
Arthur sat on the edge of a bolted-down metal bunk, staring blankly at the concrete wall. Gone were the tailored Italian suits, the corner office overlooking the city skyline, and the absolute certainty of wealth and privilege. In their place was the stark, unrelenting reality of accountability.
His defense attorney sat across from him in the sterile visitation booth, sliding a thick stack of paperwork across the stainless-steel counter.
"Arthur, we don't have a defense," the lawyer said quietly, his voice devoid of optimism. "The federal prosecutors have the uncompressed audio, the SMTP logs, and corroborating testimony from Eleanor Whitmore herself."
Arthur looked up sharply, his eyes bloodshot. "Eleanor? She's cooperating with the prosecution?"
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"She accepted a plea deal this morning in exchange for a reduced sentence," the lawyer replied bluntly. "She gave them everything, Arthur. She realized she took the fall while you sat in your ivory tower playing puppet master. She’s testifying against you."
Arthur buried his face in his hands, letting out a ragged, defeated breath. The house of cards he had built over decades had collapsed not because of a grand master plan, but because a group of ordinary students refused to stay silent when the cameras went dark.
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