Chapter 4 - Unmasking the Empire
The master suite of the West Wing was dark except for the amber glow of a single desk lamp. Eleanor sat at her antique mahogany desk, pouring a glass of scotch with steady, practiced hands. As the heavy oak door creaked open, she didn't even look up.
"You always were dramatic, Roman," Eleanor said, sipping her drink. "Dragging a stray child into my home, throwing accusations around like a common criminal. Do you have any idea what this will do to the stock price tomorrow morning?"
I walked slowly across the Persian rug, stopping five feet from her desk. I didn't yell. I didn't slam my fists. My voice was as calm and flat as a frozen lake.
"Clara found the offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands," I said. "She packed a bag, grabbed Sophie, and tried to leave. You intercepted them on the coastal highway. You had your driver run their car off the cliff, and then you told me Clara had abandoned us out of greed."
Eleanor set her glass down with a soft clink. She looked up, her expression one of supreme pity. "And who is going to believe that? The police commissioner dines at my table every Thursday. The district attorney owes his career to our foundation. You have a traumatized child's fever dream and a disgruntled housekeeper."
"I don't need a jury, Mother," I said, pulling a heavy black flash drive from my pocket and placing it squarely on her desk. "That contains every encrypted ledger, wire transfer, and maintenance log from the West Wing basement over the last thirty-six months. Marcus transmitted copies to the FBI, the federal prosecutor's office, and every major news outlet twenty minutes ago."
Eleanor’s hand froze inches from the glass. The color drained from her face, leaving her skin the gray of old parchment.
"You wouldn't," she whispered. "You are a D'Angelo. You destroy your own blood?"
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"You stopped being my mother the day you buried my wife and locked my daughter in a cage," I replied.
Heavy boots echoed in the hallway outside. The oak doors pushed open, not by guards, but by federal agents in dark tactical gear, led by a lieutenant with a federal warrant in his hand.
