Chapter 11 - The Vanishing Millions and the Missing Will
The silence in the dining room became absolute. The only sound was the violent drumming of rain against the tall glass panes.
Julian Mercer instantly reached for the briefcase on the floor, but Ethan didn't even flinch.
"I wouldn't touch that briefcase if I were you, Julian," Ethan warned, his dark eyes locking onto the accountant. "Because the second your hands go inside, the eight armed tactical officers stationed outside that doorway will breach the glass."
Julian stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitching in his throat.
"Ethan... Ethan, you're being paranoid! I don't know what lies Martha told you, but—" Vanessa stammered, standing up so abruptly that her chair scraped violently against the hardwood.
"Shut up, Vanessa," Ethan roared, slamming his palm onto the table with enough force to rattle the crystal china.
He stood up, towering over them with the full fury of a betrayed father.
"I know about Tampa. I know about the elderly developer who died of sudden heart failure three weeks after meeting you. I know about the offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands registered under Mercer Holdings. And I know about the digitalis you put in my wine glass less than ten minutes ago."
Vanessa’s knees buckled. She dropped back into her chair, her face drained of all color, her manicured hands shaking uncontrollably.
"You’re insane! You have no proof of anything!" Julian yelled, losing his composure completely. He grabbed the legal documents, attempting to shove them into his coat as he bolted toward the terrace doors. "This meeting is over!"
CRASH!
Before Julian could take three steps, the heavy glass French doors shattered inward. Flashlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the room in blinding white beams as tactical officers in body armor poured into the dining room.
"POLICE! DON'T MOVE! HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"
Julian was shoved facedown onto the carpet, his arms wrenched behind his back as the cold steel handcuffs clicked tightly around his wrists.
Detective Marcus Rivera walked through the shattered doorway, accompanied by Assistant DA Catherine Brooks. Marcus stepped up to the table, pulled an evidence bag from his jacket, and carefully sealed Ethan’s wine glass and the remaining amber bottle found inside Julian’s briefcase.
"Julian Mercer, Vanessa Crowley," Detective Rivera announced loudly. "You are both under arrest for attempted aggravated murder, conspiracy to commit first-degree murder, corporate fraud, and grand larceny. You have the right to remain silent."
Vanessa sat paralyzed, staring at the floor as two female officers pulled her to her feet and handcuffed her hands behind her red silk dress.
As she was escorted past Ethan toward the front doors, she looked up at him with wild, desperate eyes.
"Ethan, please! I’m sorry! I was desperate! Don't let them take me!" she shrieked, weeping hysterically. "Ethan! Please!"
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Ethan looked at her with pure, cold indifference.
"You made my six-year-old daughter scrub cold floors on her knees while you starved her," Ethan said, his voice cutting through her screams like an icy blade. "You will spend the rest of your life scrubbing the floor of a concrete prison cell."
