Chapter 6
The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing the three associates in a suffocating silence. The hum of the heart monitor seemed to grow louder, ticking off the seconds like a countdown to an inevitable explosion. Catherine clutched the blue cardigan tighter around her shoulders, her fingers tracing the rough texture of the wool. The adrenaline that had sustained her through Arnold’s visit was rapidly fading, leaving behind a profound, bone-deep exhaustion.
Julian broke the silence first, pacing the narrow strip of linoleum between the bed and the armchair. His dress shoes clicked sharply against the floor, a staccato rhythm that matched the erratic firing of his thoughts.
“He’s playing us,” Julian muttered, stopping abruptly to glare at the empty doorway. “Arnold isn't trying to save the firm. He’s positioning himself to take over the managing partner seat when the indictments drop. Think about it—if we are all tangled up in an obstruction of justice charge for breaking into an impound yard, Arnold stays clean. He’s just the corporate counsel doing his due diligence.”
Thomas remained leaning against the windowsill, staring out into the dark parking lot below where the amber streetlights cast long, distorted shadows. He let out a dry, humorless chuckle.
“You’re just realizing that now, Julian?” Thomas asked without turning around. “Arnold has been positioning himself to push us out since the merger two years ago. This whole crisis is just a convenient vehicle for a hostile takeover from within.”
Catherine shifted in bed, wincing as a sharp pain flared behind her bandaged forehead. She looked between the two men, realizing with chilling clarity that her so-called allies were already calculating how to sacrifice her to save themselves. The unity they projected in the boardroom was nothing more than a fragile veneer, splintering under the pressure of federal scrutiny.
“It doesn’t matter if Arnold is playing a long game,” Catherine said, her voice raspy and dry. She pointed a trembling finger at the burner phone resting on the rolling tray. “If we don’t get that hard drive out of the impound yard tonight, none of us will have a firm to run. We’ll be sharing a cell block by the end of the month.”
Julian walked over to the rolling tray, picking up the small, matte-black phone. Its screen was dark, cold, and devoid of life. He turned it over in his palm, feeling the weight of the conspiracy settle heavily onto his shoulders. He had spent thirty years building a pristine reputation as a corporate philanthropist and legal luminary, and now he was contemplating hiring a criminal to break into a police lockup.
May you like
“If we do this,” Julian said quietly, his eyes fixed on the device, “there’s no turning back. We are officially crossing the Rubicon.”
“We crossed it the day we signed off on the phantom assets,” Thomas replied, pushing off the window frame and walking toward the door. He didn’t look back as he reached for the handle. “I’ll handle the financial transfer to Arnold’s offshore account. Just make sure his ghost gets the job done before sunrise.”
