Chapter 8 - The Cornered Beast
The silence in the deposition room was deafening.
Grant’s attorney looked at his client, his eyebrows raised in sudden realization that he was representing a man who had successfully conned himself into a corner.
“You... you lied to me,” Grant stammered, his voice losing its polished resonance.
“I protected my mother’s legacy,” I corrected him.
“The only thing you actually stole was a useless file. But the federal charges of attempted poisoning, corporate espionage, and wire fraud? Those are very, very real. And because you used a restricted neuro-sedative, the Department of Justice is treating this as a chemical weapon violation.”
Grant stood up so fast his chair scraped violently against the floor. “This is a lie! She’s trying to destroy me!”
“Sit down, Mr. Whitmore,” the federal marshal at the door said, his hand resting casually on his holster.
Grant looked around the room, realization finally sinking in. He was trapped. There was no way out, no secret account that could save him, and no allies left to call.
May you like
“I want a deal,” Grant muttered, his voice cracking.
“There is no deal,” Ruth said, closing her folder with a satisfying snap. “We have everything we need. We just wanted to watch you realize it.”
