Chapter 11
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Julian sat on the edge of the lumpy bed in his cheap motel room, staring blankly at the flickering screen of a small, outdated television. The news anchors were aggressively discussing the spectacular, unprecedented downfall of the Vance corporate empire. The chyrons flashing at the bottom of the screen were a constant, brutal reminder of his absolute ruin: Billionaire CEO Terminated, Federal Raid Recovers Millions, Wife Takes Over Firm.
Every single bridge he had ever built was currently burning to ash in the public eye.
A sudden, sharp knock at the thin wooden door of the motel room made Julian jump. He hesitated, his paranoia spiking. He crept toward the window and peeked through the dirty, yellowed blinds.
Outside, standing in the parking lot, were two unmarked black sedans. Four men wearing windbreakers with bold yellow letters reading 'FBI' were standing strategically around the doorway. District Attorney Thomas Sterling was standing directly in front of the door, completely unbothered by the sleazy motel environment.
Julian’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. There was no back door. He was completely surrounded.
"Julian Vance," Sterling's voice boomed through the thin door, carrying the undeniable weight of absolute legal authority. "Open the door immediately. We have a federal warrant for your arrest."
Julian backed away from the door, his hands trembling violently. He looked around the pathetic, moldy room, realizing that this was the final destination of his arrogance. He had stolen millions, abused his family, and believed himself to be an untouchable god, only to end up cowering in a thirty-dollar-a-night motel.
He slowly walked forward and unlatched the deadbolt. The door swung open immediately.
Sterling stepped into the room, flanked by two heavily armed federal agents. He looked at Julian's ruined, wrinkled suit and his defeated, terrified posture with absolute, unadulterated disgust.
"Julian Vance, you are under arrest for federal wire fraud, embezzlement, corporate conspiracy, and money laundering," Sterling recited smoothly, pulling a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt.
"Thomas, please," Julian choked out, tears of absolute humiliation welling in his eyes. "We were brothers. Don't do this to me in public."
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"Turn around and put your hands behind your back," Sterling ordered coldly, ignoring the pathetic plea. "You haven't been my brother since the day you decided stealing from your own child was an acceptable business strategy."
Julian slowly turned around. The cold, heavy steel clicked securely around his wrists, ending his reign of terror permanently.
