Chapter 5 - The Showdown in the Federal Building
The Everett McKinley Dirksen United States Courthouse in Chicago was a temple of limestone and glass.
On Friday morning, the corridor outside the grand jury room was packed with reporters, corporate lawyers, and federal agents. The news of the impending indictment of Voss Industrial had leaked to the financial press, sending the company’s stock price into a fifteen percent freefall.
I stood beside Leo Vance, holding my leather briefcase, when the elevator doors at the end of the hall opened.
Julian Voss stepped out, flanked by his father, Reginald, and five lawyers from the most expensive defense firm in New York. Julian looked different—his hair was messy, his eyes bloodshot, his expensive suit looking slightly rumpled. The handsome, charming groom from the Ashkam Hotel had been replaced by a man on the edge of a cliff.
Reginald Voss walked with a stiff, furious stride, his grey eyes locked on me like a predator.
"Nora," Reginald said, stopping a few feet away, his voice a low, threatening hiss. "You’ve made a monumentally stupid mistake. You think you can use our family’s private business to build your career in Chicago? We will tie you up in civil court for the next twenty years. You’ll be bankrupt before the first trial date is set."
"The civil courts won't protect you from a federal criminal indictment, Mr. Voss," Leo Vance stepped forward, his frame dwarfing the older man. "The grand jury has just returned true bills for racketeering, conspiracy to commit fraud, and witness tampering. The arrest warrants are being signed as we speak."
Julian stepped past his father, his face contorted with a desperate, wild fury. He looked at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of hatred and regret.
"Nora, please," Julian whispered, his voice cracking. "You loved me. We were supposed to build a life together. You’re destroying everything over a single mistake on our wedding night."
"It wasn't a mistake, Julian," I said, my voice echoing off the limestone walls of the federal building. "The slap was just the first time you showed me who you really were. The fraud, the bribery, the two men who died in that fire—that is the real legacy of the Voss family. And today, the bill is due."
Before his lawyers could intervene, three federal marshals walked down the corridor, their badges shining in the fluorescent lights.
"Reginald Voss? Julian Voss?" the lead marshal asked. "You are under arrest for federal conspiracy and racketeering charges. Please step forward."
The corridor erupted into chaos as the reporters began shouting questions, the flashbulbs of cameras lighting up the space like a thunderstorm.
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I watched as the marshals handcuffed Julian and his father, leading them toward the elevators in disgrace. Julian looked back at me one last time, his eyes filled with a hollow, empty terror.
It was the last time I ever saw him.
