Chapter 4 - The Fall of the House
The arrest happened at four o’clock on a slushy Thursday afternoon.
Jason was leaving a private luncheon at an exclusive steakhouse in the Loop, surrounded by three of his defense attorneys and two Mitchell family bodyguards. He was mid-sentence, gesturing animatedly to a reporter who was trying to get a statement, when four unmarked black SUVs pulled up to the curb, blocking the street.
Federal agents and Cook County Sheriff’s deputies stepped out, weapons drawn.
“Jason Mitchell!” Marcus Vance’s voice boomed over a bullhorn. “You are under arrest for attempted murder, aggravated arson, wire fraud, and corporate embezzlement. Step away from your vehicle and keep your hands visible!”
The sidewalk went dead silent. Cameras from three different news stations, which had been tipped off by Noah’s office, caught every second of the confrontation.
Jason froze. His face went completely white. “What is this?” he screamed, turning to his lead attorney. “Vance, do something! Call my uncle!”
Arthur Vance stepped forward to intervene, but a federal agent shoved a copy of the arrest warrant directly against the lawyer’s chest.
“The warrant is signed by a federal judge, counsel,” the agent said coldly. “Step back, or you’ll be booked for obstruction.”
The bodyguards wisely raised their hands and stepped away, recognizing the federal insignia on the officers’ vests. They knew better than to interfere with federal marshals—even for a Mitchell.
A deputy grabbed Jason’s arms, pulled them roughly behind his back, and snapped silver handcuffs around his wrists.
“You can’t do this to me!” Jason yelled, thrashing against the officers as they pushed him toward the back of an SUV. “Do you know who I am? I am the founder of Mitchell Medical! I made this city!”
As he was forced into the back seat, his eyes caught mine.
I was standing across the street, wrapped in my dark coat, flanked by Noah. I didn't shout, I didn't laugh, and I didn't wave. I simply stood there, meeting his gaze with unyielding calm.
For a brief moment, as the reality of his situation set in, Jason’s arrogant demeanor cracked completely. Tears of frustration and fear leaked from his eyes as the SUV door slammed shut, cutting off his shouts.
That evening, the news dominated every network in the country.
“BIOMEDICAL TYCOON ARRESTED FOR ATTEMPTED MURDER OF WIFE.” “MITCHELL MEDICAL STOCK COLLAPSES AS CFO COOPERATES WITH FEDERAL PROBE.”
Inside Noah’s office, we watched the television reports while reviewing the emergency corporate board filings.
“Madison’s testimony was devastating,” Noah said, setting down a copy of her grand jury deposition. “She provided six years of double-entry ledgers showing that Jason systematically embezzled over fifty million dollars from company accounts. More importantly, she produced an audio recording of Jason admitting that he needed you ‘out of the picture permanently’ so he could sell the company’s core patents without your consent.”
“What about the board of directors?” I asked.
“They’re in total damage control,” Noah said. “They held an emergency meeting two hours ago. They’ve removed Jason as CEO, stripped him of his board seat, and are currently looking for a way to stop the stock from hitting zero.”
“They don't have to look far,” I said, placing a thick folder onto his desk. “It’s time to invoke Clause 14 of the original licensing agreement.”
Noah opened the folder and read through the legal document. A slow smile spread across his face.
“Clause 14,” Noah read aloud. “‘In the event of felony indictment, moral turpitude, or breach of fiduciary duty by the licensee’s executive management, the exclusive technology license granted to Mitchell Medical Technologies by Vale Biomedical Research shall be immediately terminated, and all associated software, hardware designs, and patent rights shall revert instantly to the grantor.’”
“Without Aster’s patents, Mitchell Medical is just an empty shell with expensive real estate,” I said. “Tomorrow morning, I’m calling an extraordinary shareholders’ meeting.”
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“They’re going to be desperate, Iris,” Noah warned. “Dominic Mitchell still controls nearly thirty percent of the outstanding shares through his dummy corporations. He won’t let you take the company without trying to destroy it first.”
“Let him try,” I said, looking out at the city lights. “He built his empire on fear. I built mine on science. Let’s see which one lasts longer.”
