Chapter 7 - The Final Seizure
Right on cue, the heavy double doors of the Drake Hotel ballroom burst open. This time, it wasn't transit authority officers or corporate lawyers. A squad of eight federal marshals, led by a stern-faced woman with a gold badge, marched down the center aisle.
"Julianna Monroe? Celeste Monroe?" the lead marshal announced, her voice ringing clear over the hushed crowd. "We have a federal warrant for your immediate arrest on charges of grand larceny, witness tampering, and conspiracy to commit interstate financial fraud. Your bail has been officially revoked by the district judge following the discovery of your flight risk assets in Switzerland."
"No! You can't do this to us! We are the Monroes!" Julianna screamed, her diamond bracelets clinking violently as the marshals pulled her arms behind her back, securing them with heavy steel handcuffs.
Celeste didn't even fight. She fell to her knees on the damp marble floor, her wet dress clinging to her legs, her eyes fixed on the empty space in front of me. The high-priced corporate defense attorney, Victor Cross, stood in the corner of the ballroom, his phone to his ear, slowly turning his back on them as he realized his career would be permanently destroyed if he stayed associated with their name.
As the marshals led them out through the gauntlet of flashing press cameras, the ballroom remained in absolute, breathless silence.
Marcus Vance walked up beside me, a sleek digital tablet in his hand. "Monroe Holdings has officially filed for Chapter 7 liquidation, Adrian. The bankruptcy court has just approved our bid to acquire their entire shipping terminal infrastructure for pennies on the dollar."
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I looked out at the crowd of billionaires and old-money dynasties who were now watching me with a profound, terrifying respect. None of them dared to make a sound.
"Clean the room, Marcus," I said, turning on my heel. "The music is over."
