Chapter 2 - Unraveling the Golden BoyThe Mask Comes Off"I—I said who touched you?" Marcus repeated, stepping fully into the bathroom. The air felt heavy enough to suffocate everyone in the room.
I pointed a shaking, blood-stained finger toward Dean, who was currently pinned under an agent's knee in the hallway, groaning in pain.
"He asked where his paycheck went," I whispered, my voice cracking. "When I showed him the empty joint account, he slammed my head into the mirror. His parents... they watched. They laughed."
Marcus didn't yell. He turned around slowly, his boots crunching on the glass fragments scattered across the tile. He walked out to the hallway, stopping right above Dean.
"Get him up," Marcus ordered.
The tactical agent yanked Dean up by his collar, dragging him onto his feet. Dean’s nose was bleeding, and his face was pale, his bravado entirely drained.
"Listen to me, man!" Dean stammered, his teeth chattering. "This is a domestic misunderstanding! She's hysterical! She's crazy! Ask my mother!"
"Shut up!" Linda shrieked from the corner, where another agent was securing her hands. "You savages! My son is a senior corporate accountant! He makes six figures! You have no right to treat us like criminals!"
Marcus took two steps closer to Dean, leaning in until their noses were inches apart.
"A corporate accountant?" Marcus asked, a dark smile touching his lips. "Is that what he told you, Linda?"
Linda blinked, stunned. "Of course! He works for Vance Financial!"
Marcus reached into his tactical vest, pulled out a clear plastic evidence bag containing a thick manila folder, and tossed it onto the kitchen counter right outside the hallway.
"Vance Financial fired your son fourteen months ago for embezzling funds," Marcus said calmly. "And for the last six months, he hasn't been looking for a job. He’s been working as a money launderer for the Vasquez Cartel."
The room went dead quiet.
Linda’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. Arthur stopped struggling against his cuffs, his face draining of all color.
"What... what did you say?" Arthur stammered.
"Your son didn't just slam my sister's head into a mirror," Marcus growled, leaning closer to Dean. "He's been using her identity, her credit score, and her family trust to clean illicit cash for local distribution hubs. We’ve been building a wiretap case on his cartel handlers for three months. I gave my sister that panic button because I knew the second the money stopped flowing, he’d turn violent."
Dean was shaking uncontrollably now. "Marcus... please... we’re family..."
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"You aren't family," I said, leaning against the doorframe, supporting myself with one hand while an agent wrapped a white bandage around my forehead. "You were just a parasite."
"Search the master bedroom, the attic, and the safe under the garage stairs," Marcus commanded his team. "Clear everything out."
