Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
The living room went dead silent. The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen sounded like a roaring engine in the oppressive quiet. Marcus stared up at his sister, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, while Chloe let out a sharp, hysterical sob and sank to her knees on the floor.
"You can't do that," Marcus whispered, his voice trembling so violently he could barely form the words. "I'm your brother. We share the same blood. Our parents would be turning in their graves if they saw you doing this to me."
"Our parents worked eighty-hour weeks in a textile factory to put me through college so I wouldn't have to live a life of lies and shortcuts," Maya fired back, her voice ringing with suppressed rage. "They raised me with integrity, Marcus. You threw your integrity away years ago at a poker table."
Chloe grabbed the hem of Maya’s black blazer, her face stained with desperate tears. "Please, Miss Maya—please, have mercy! We'll leave the country. We'll go to Europe, we'll disappear, you'll never hear from us again! Just don't ruin his life!"
Maya looked down at Chloe’s hands gripping her suit, then slowly reached down and peeled them away, one finger at a time. She stepped back, smoothing the fabric of her blazer.
"You should have thought about disappearing months ago," Maya said coldly. She pulled out her phone again, her thumb hovering over the keypad. "Federal indictment for corporate espionage carries a minimum sentence of fifteen years. I suggest you use the next ten minutes to call a lawyer, because once I press send on this encrypted transmission, the digital locks on this house will seal permanently until federal agents arrive."
Marcus suddenly lunged off the sofa, abandoning all dignity as he threw himself onto the floor at Maya's feet, wrapping his arms tightly around her high heels. "Maya, please! Don't do it! I have a plan to pay it back! I swear on Mom's grave, I'll turn myself in tomorrow morning, just give me tonight!"
"Get off me!" Maya snapped, yanking her leg free with a sharp, forceful motion that sent Marcus sprawling backward onto the rug.
Before Marcus could pick himself up, a sharp, metallic sound echoed from the front entryway. The heavy wooden front door didn't just knock this time—it rattled violently as someone attempted to force the deadbolt from the outside with a master key.
May you like
Maya froze, her phone still in her hand. Marcus scrambled backward, his eyes wide with stark terror. "That's not the police," Marcus whispered hoarsely. "That's Viktor's crew. They tracked me here."
---
