Chapter 21
One week later, the brutal, biting cold of the Maine wilderness had been entirely replaced by the sterile, heavily fortified environment of an FBI safe house located deep within the Virginia suburbs, just outside of Washington D.C. The house was a fortress, surrounded by concrete barriers and guarded by dozens of elite federal agents.
Everett sat at the polished mahogany dining table, a stark contrast to the rusted furniture of the ranger cabin, reviewing a massive stack of legal depositions. Maren was in the adjacent living room, helping Bennett with a puzzle, the normalcy of the activity a desperate attempt to shield the boy from the impending media storm.
Sloane Avery walked into the dining room, carrying a fresh pot of black coffee and a thick tablet. She looked exhausted, having spent the last seven days working alongside federal prosecutors to build an airtight case against the syndicate.
"The congressional committee has officially agreed to a closed-door hearing tomorrow morning," Sloane announced, pouring two cups of coffee and sliding one across the table to Everett. "Director Miller wants you to take the stand first to authenticate the hard drive and establish a timeline of your grandmother's murder."
Everett took a long sip of the burning coffee, rubbing his tired eyes. "How are the syndicate's lawyers spinning this? Vance promised they would try to destroy my reputation before I ever saw a courtroom."
Sloane tapped the screen of her tablet and turned it toward him. "They aren't waiting for the courtroom. They leaked a massive smear campaign to the press this morning."
Everett looked at the screen. The headlines across three major news outlets were incredibly damning and entirely fabricated. LANGFORD HEIR SUSPECTED IN FATAL MAINE EXPLOSION. BILLIONAIRE GRANDSON SUFFERS PARANOID BREAKDOWN, FABRICATES EVIDENCE. THE LANGFORD TRUST CRISIS: IS EVERETT UNFIT TO INHERIT?
"They are claiming that you set the fire at the safe house to cover up a botched attempt to embezzle funds from the trust," Sloane explained, her voice tight with anger. "They are painting you as a violently unstable, greedy heir desperate for control, and framing Richard Vance as an innocent financial advisor caught in the crossfire of your supposed mental breakdown."
May you like
Everett stared at the screen, a cold, heavy familiar weight settling in his stomach. The Langford money had always been a curse, capable of twisting reality and destroying lives.
"It doesn't matter what they print, Everett," Sloane said firmly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We have the encrypted data. We have the wire transfers. We have the absolute truth. You just need to hold the line tomorrow."
