Chapter 6 - The Broken Alliance
The reaction was instantaneous. By 4:00 p.m. the next day, the Vanguard Group issued a press release announcing the immediate termination of their contract with Holden Architects, citing "irreconcilable corporate differences and ethical concerns."
Mark’s last remaining lifeline had been severed.
An hour later, my personal phone buzzed. It was an unknown number, but I knew the area code. I answered it, setting it on speakerphone so Evelyn could listen.
"Rebecca," Mark’s voice gasped into the line. He sounded completely unraveled, his breathing heavy and ragged, the background noise of traffic suggesting he was calling from a public street. "You’ve destroyed me. You’ve taken my firm, my reputation, my family... everything. My mother is sitting in a holding cell, and Claire won't even take my calls. Is this what you wanted? To watch me bleed?"
"You watched me flatline, Mark," I said, my voice as calm and steady as a deep lake. "You stood there with your mistress on your arm and whispered 'It's finally ours' while my body was still warm. I’m just returning the favor."
"I didn't know about the poison, Rebecca!" he screamed, his voice cracking with a desperate, manic rage. "I swear to you! That was all my mother! She’s old, she’s crazy, she wanted the money! I just wanted to be a part of your life! I designed those hotels for you! I loved you!"
"You loved my father’s portfolio, Mark," I said. "And you wanted to use my children as a shield to steal it. But you forgot one thing: I am Arthur Moore’s daughter. I don't negotiate with thieves."
"If you don't give me the settlement, Rebecca," he hissed, his tone suddenly shifting to a low, desperate threat, "I’ll go to the papers with everything. I’ll tell them about your father’s final days. I’ll tell them how he really died. I’ll make sure the Moore name is dragged through every gutter in this city."
My hand tightened around the phone. My father had died of pancreatic cancer, in peace, surrounded by family. There were no secrets, no gutters. Mark was bluffing, trying to find a crack in my armor.
"The only thing going to the papers, Mark, is your mugshot," I said. "Evelyn has just filed the formal racketeering charges against your firm. The FBI’s white-collar crime division is already reviewing your offshore accounts. If I were you, I’d start looking for a lawyer who accepts public defender rates. Because Julian Sterling is going to drop you the second he realizes you can't pay his retainer."
"Rebecca—"
I hung up the phone, cutting off his voice, and looked at Evelyn. "Is the surveillance still on him?"
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"Yes," Evelyn said, nodding toward her tablet. "Our private security team has eyes on him. He’s currently staying at a motel near the Lincoln Tunnel. He’s running out of money, and his credit cards are completely dead. He’s trapped."
"Good," I said, looking down at Arthur, who had just opened his tiny, dark eyes in his bassinet. "Let him stay in the dark. It’s his turn to wonder if he’s going to make it through the night."
