Chapter 10
Inside a windowless, high-security holding room at the federal detention center, Julian sat across a heavy metal table from Marcus Thorne, a high-priced defense attorney whose silver hair and immaculate charcoal suit usually commanded instant respect in any courtroom. Thorne was flipping through the preliminary charges filed by Agent Vance, his expression tightening with every page he turned. Julian’s pink suit jacket was gone, replaced by a standard-issue white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms tense with unspent rage. His stubble had grown thicker over the past forty-eight hours, and his dark hair was completely unstyled, adding to his desperate, hunted appearance.
“This is an absolute disaster, Julian,” Thorne stated bluntly, dropping the file onto the metal table with a sharp thud. “The prosecution has complete paper trails, verified bank statements, tax evasion logs, and signed authorizations bearing your signature for every single shell company. Who the hell gave them this level of internal access?”
Julian clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached. He refused to utter Elena’s name, as if speaking it aloud would grant her even more power over his rapidly disintegrating reality.
“It doesn’t matter who gave it to them,” Julian snapped, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. “Find a technicality. Claim the search warrants were improperly executed, or argue that the documents were obtained under duress. That’s what I pay you millions for, Thorne!”
Thorne leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest with a cold, professional detachment that infuriated Julian even more.
“Money doesn’t buy miracles when the federal government has an airtight paper trail handed to them by the person who managed the accounts,” Thorne replied coolly. “Furthermore, your mother’s legal team is already preparing to distance her from the primary operational liability. She intends to testify that you acted independently of the board’s knowledge.”
Julian recoiled as if he had been physically struck. The betrayal by his own mother cut deeper than Elena’s departure. Evelyn was cutting him loose to preserve the family name and whatever remnants of their fortune she could salvage through clever trust maneuvers.
“She can’t do that,” Julian whispered, his bravado entirely evaporating. “Every decision I made was approved by the board—approved by her!”
“Do you have that approval in writing, Julian? Signed and notarized?” Thorne asked pointedly. Julian fell silent, staring down at the scuffed metal of the table. He had always relied on verbal agreements, familial loyalty, and absolute control to shield himself from accountability. Now, those exact habits had left him completely exposed.
“Then what do we do?” Julian asked, his voice cracking with desperation.
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“We start discussing a plea agreement,” Thorne said softly, gathering his papers and sliding them back into his briefcase. “Cooperation is the only path that keeps you out of a maximum-security prison for the next twenty years. You need to start learning how to negotiate from the bottom up, Julian. Because your days of giving orders are officially over.”
Thorne stood up, signaled the guard at the door, and walked out of the room, leaving Julian alone in the cold silence with the devastating reality of his own making.
