“Worse,” Sterling smiled, a terrifying, predatory expression that belonged to a man who had just executed a flawless checkmate. “They are personally, legally responsible for massive federal loans that went into default exactly twenty-four hours ago. The banks have already initiated the seizure protocols.”
Sterling reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek, black leather folder.
“Arthur made sure they took the anchor,” Sterling said quietly, sliding the black folder next to the one-dollar bill. “And he made absolutely certain that you were the only one holding the parachute.”
Chapter 4: The Scream in the Foyer
I didn’t have to wait long to see the trap snap shut. The execution was as swift as it was devastating.
At exactly 9:00 AM the next morning, I stood on the public sidewalk just outside the massive, wrought-iron gates of my parents’ sprawling estate. The morning air was crisp and clear. I held a steaming cup of coffee from a nearby café, the warmth seeping into my hands.
I watched the long, manicured driveway.
Three heavy, unmarked black SUVs turned sharply off the main road, their tires crunching aggressively on the gravel as they sped up the driveway, completely ignoring the “Private Property” signs. Following closely behind the SUVs were two massive, heavy-duty flatbed tow trucks.
The vehicles came to a screeching halt directly in front of the grand, pillared entrance of the house.
A dozen men and women wearing sharp business suits and dark windbreakers bearing the logos of federal financial institutions and major banking conglomerates poured out of the SUVs. They weren’t local police; they were federal process servers, bank liquidators, and asset seizure agents. They carried thick, heavy stacks of foreclosure notices, eviction orders, and asset seizure warrants.
The lead agent, a tall, imposing woman, marched up the stone steps and pounded heavily on the custom oak front door.
A minute later, the door swung open.
