Chapter 8 - The Federal Marshals Strike
The heavy double frosted-glass doors of the boardroom were thrown open once more, and twelve armed federal marshals in tactical gear entered the room in synchronized formation.
Special Agent Marcus Reed walked down the center aisle, holding a red-sealed federal RICO arrest warrant bearing thirty-eight felony counts.
“Arthur Thorne, Beatrice Thorne, and Cassandra Thorne, keep your hands visible and remain where you are,” Agent Reed commanded in a booming voice.
“By order of the United States District Court for the District of Massachusetts, you are officially under federal arrest.”
Two federal marshals stepped onto the dais, grabbing Arthur by his tailored jacket and hauling him to his feet.
The sharp, metallic snap of heavy steel handcuffs echoed through the silent boardroom as Arthur’s arms were wrenched behind his back.
Arthur thrashed against the restraints, his face purple with rage and terror, spitting saliva as he looked at his son.
“Ethan! You ungrateful little bastard!” Arthur roared, tears of pure, unadulterated hatred streaming down his face.
“I gave you life! I built the foundation of your education! You cannot hand your own father over to the federal government!”
Ethan stood tall, his hands resting calmly in his pockets, watching his father with absolute, serene majesty.
“You didn't build my education, Arthur; I built this company with my own sweat, blood, and intellect while you squandered my grandfather’s wealth in European casinos.”
“You forfeited the right to call yourself my father the second you allowed my pregnant wife to starve in a dark pantry.”
Another female marshal secured Beatrice’s wrists in heavy handcuffs, ignoring her hysterical shrieks as her designer lavender dress was rumpled against the table.
“Ethan! Tell them to stop! I am your mother!” Beatrice wept hysterically, collapsing onto her knees on the carpet.
“I carried you for nine months! You can't let them put me in a cage!”
“You carried me for nine months, Mother,” Ethan replied softly, looking down at her with cold, unyielding pity.
“And you tried to poison the woman who is carrying my daughter.”
As Cassandra was handcuffed and hauled from her chair, sobbing uncontrollably into her emerald blouse, the thirty corporate board members erupted into a standing ovation.
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The three parasites were dragged through the center aisle of the boardroom amidst the blinding flashes of national news cameras waiting in the corridor.
The grand conspiracy that had sought to destroy an innocent family was completely annihilated in less than forty-five minutes.
