Chapter 6 - The Trap Sprung
Aaron stood paralyzed in the middle of the living room, his mind struggling to process the scene before him. He looked from Arthur Pendelton’s triumphant face to Jasmine, who was stepping smoothly behind Arthur, placing the silver flash drive into his outstretched hand.
"Jasmine..." Aaron stammered, his voice trembling with horror. "What... what is this? Why is he here?"
Jasmine let out a short, cold laugh—a sound so completely devoid of the sweetness she had displayed for months that it chilled Aaron to the bone.
"Oh, Aaron," she said, leaning against Arthur’s shoulder. "Did you honestly believe that a seven-year-old startup CEO with an overinflated ego was actually my dream man? Did you really think I enjoyed peeling oranges for you and pretending your boring corporate speeches were inspiring?"
Aaron felt as if someone had plunged a blade directly into his chest. "You... you were working for him?"
"From day one," Arthur Pendelton chuckled, taking a sip of his scotch. "Jasmine has been on Vanguard's payroll for three years, Aaron. Her assignment was simple: get close to you, feed your pathetic ego, drive a wedge between you and your wealthy wife, and extract your core software schematics."
"You..." Aaron’s eyes turned wild with fury. He took a violent step forward, his fists clenched. "You treacherous little bitch!"
Before he could reach her, two heavy-set bodyguards stepped out from the hallway, grabbing Aaron by his arms and forcing him down onto his knees with brutal efficiency.
"Careful, Aaron," Arthur said smoothly, holding up the silver flash drive. "With these root access keys, Vanguard will launch the next-generation Prescott Cloud under our own name tomorrow morning. You are officially obsolete."
"It's illegal!" Aaron screamed, thrashing against the guards' grip. "That code belongs to my company! It's stolen property!"
"Your company is bankrupt, Aaron," Jasmine sneered, looking down at him with absolute disgust. "And without your wife’s legal team to protect you, you don't have the money to sue a dog, let alone Vanguard Technologies."
Arthur pulled out a tablet, plugging the silver flash drive into the side port. "Now, let's verify the root code and execute the wire transfer to Jasmine's Cayman account..."
BOOM!
The heavy oak front door of the apartment was suddenly blown off its hinges with a deafening crash, splintering into pieces across the foyer.
Heavy flashbang grenades bounced into the living room, exploding with blinding white light and thunderous booms.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DON'T MOVE! GET ON THE GROUND!"
A dozen heavily armed FBI tactical operatives clad in black body armor stormed into the apartment, laser sights dancing across the walls.
Arthur dropped his scotch glass, screaming as he was tackled to the floor by two agents. Jasmine shrieked in terror, backing against the wall as an agent forced her hands behind her back and snapped steel handcuffs onto her wrists.
"Arthur Pendelton, Jasmine Vance," an FBI special agent announced, stepping through the smoke, pulling out a red-sealed federal warrant. "You are under arrest for federal corporate espionage, conspiracy to commit wire fraud, and the illegal theft of protected defense-grade technological infrastructure."
Aaron, still on his knees, looked up through the haze, weeping with sudden, pathetic relief.
"Officers! Thank God!" Aaron cried out. "She stole my code! They were trying to sell my company's secrets!"
The FBI agent turned, looking down at Aaron with cool, unbothered contempt.
"Stand up, Mr. Prescott," the agent commanded.
"Yes! Yes, of course!" Aaron said, scrambling to his feet, holding out his hands to be freed from the bodyguards who were now being handcuffed themselves. "I want to press charges against both of them immediately!"
"You're not pressing charges, Mr. Prescott," the agent said coldly, pulling out a second pair of handcuffs. "You're under arrest as a co-conspirator."
Aaron gasped, backing away. "What?! Co-conspirator?! I’m the victim here!"
"You just personally delivered stolen, unpatented proprietary technology belonging to the Sterling Heritage Trust to a foreign-backed competitor," the agent replied smoothly, grabbing Aaron’s wrist and snapping the steel cuff into place. "Mrs. Alyssa Sterling filed a formal federal complaint three hours ago. You're going to prison, Aaron."
From the hallway outside the ruined apartment door, the slow, rhythmic sound of high heels echoed against the marble floor.
The FBI agents immediately stepped aside, clearing a path.
I stepped into the room, dressed in an floor-length emerald silk coat, flanked by Clara and four senior partners of the Sterling legal defense team.
Aaron stared at me, his eyes wide with absolute, soul-crushing horror as he finally understood the true scope of the trap he had walked into.
May you like
I walked over to the coffee table, picked up the silver flash drive, and tucked it into my coat pocket. Then I turned to look at the three people handcuffed before me.
"Good evening, Aaron," I said, my voice smooth, calm, and exquisitely lethal. "I believe you dropped this."
