CHAPTER 11: The Bribe of a Sinking Ship
CHAPTER 11: The Bribe of a Sinking Ship
“Harry! Don’t you walk away from me!” Eleanor screamed, straining against the officers’ grips, her body contorting as she tried to follow him. “I am your mother! I gave you everything! I built this life for you!”
Harrison didn't stop. He walked over to his frightened bride, who was standing near the dining hall entrance, took her trembling hand, and guided her away from the chaos, back into the private rooms.
Eleanor watched him go, the last shred of her power evaporating into the cool air of the lobby.
“Alright, let’s go,” Agent Miller said, gesturing toward the front doors.
“Wait,” Eleanor said, planting her feet, refusing to walk. She looked at me, a wild, desperate gleam in her eyes. The arrogance was completely gone, replaced by the frantic bargaining of a bankrupt soul. “Wait. Julian. Listen to me. We can fix this. We can settle this out of court.”
I didn't say a word. I just watched her unravel.
“I have offshore accounts you don't know about,” she hissed, ignoring the police completely, trying to bribe me right in front of them. “Untraceable accounts in Geneva. There’s twenty million in there. I’ll give you half. I’ll give you fifteen million! Just tell them you faked the drive. Tell them it’s a family prank. Please, Julian!”
It was pathetic. She was trying to bribe her way out of a federal indictment with stolen money in front of a half-dozen law enforcement officers.
“Take her out of here,” I said to Agent Miller, turning my back on her.
The officers pulled her forward. Eleanor fought every step of the way, her high heels dragging across the expensive marble floors she used to walk on like a queen.
“You’re nothing!” she screamed at my back as they dragged her toward the exit. “You hear me? You’re a pathetic loser! You’ll never be one of us! Never!”
“I know,” I said quietly, though she couldn't hear me over her own hysterical screaming as they pushed her through the glass doors. “And I thank God for that every day.”
I turned my attention back to Sarah. She was looking at the door, listening to the fading sound of Eleanor’s screams as they shoved her into the back of a police cruiser.
“Are you okay?” I asked softly, reaching out to gently touch her arm.
Sarah looked up at me. The tension in her shoulders finally dropped. A slow, genuine smile spread across her face.
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“I think I need a drink,” she said.
“I think we both do,” I replied.
