Chapter 9 - The Fall of Richard Bellamy
By sunrise, the federal indictment against Richard Bellamy was sealed, signed, and executed by a coalition of federal marshals and state prosecutors.
While Bellamy was sitting in his executive penthouse finishing his morning coffee, sixty federal agents stormed his corporate headquarters, seizing servers, freezing accounts, and slapping iron cuffs around his wrists for conspiracy to commit murder, corporate espionage, and domestic terrorism.
The televised footage played on every major news network across the country: Richard Bellamy, head of Bellamy Logistics, being led out of his skyscraper in handcuffs while reporters shouted questions about the Midtown bombing and the attempted poisoning of an infant heir to the Rossi dynasty.
I watched the broadcast from the master living room of my Manhattan estate.
Leo was awake in his crib upstairs, cooing happily as Hunter fed him a bottle of safe, organic donor milk—her own contribution having established a permanent, healthy bond between them.
The front doors swung open, and Dante walked into the room, holding a thick manila folder.
"Federal prosecutor’s office just sent over the final evidentiary brief," Dante reported, setting the folder on the coffee table. "Bellamy is facing three consecutive life sentences without parole. Viktor Vance is singing like a canary in exchange for protective custody. And the board of Bellamy Logistics is already voting to sell off their remaining assets to Rossi Holdings for pennies on the dollar."
I nodded slowly, taking a sip of my black coffee. "Good. Make sure the acquisition goes through by noon. I want every port terminal they owned operating under our flag before the stock market opens."
"Will do, boss," Dante smiled. Then he hesitated, looking toward the hallway leading to the nursery. "What about Hunter? Now that the dust has settled and the threat is neutralized... what's her status?"
I looked down at the coffee cup in my hands, remembering the way she had walked into an armed syndicate stronghold without flinching, the way she had saved my son when twenty medical specialists failed, and the quiet, unbreakable dignity she carried through her own unimaginable grief.
"She stays," I said simply.
May you like
"Stays as a housekeeper?" Dante raised an eyebrow.
"She stays as head of estate operations," I corrected, standing up and buttoning my suit jacket. "And partner in raising my son. Unless, of course, she decides she wants something better."
