PART 9: THE COLLAPSE
By Friday evening, the news broke across every local network.
I sat in my small living room, the television screen illuminating the dark walls.
"...A stunning development in downtown Portland tonight," the news anchor announced, her face grim. "...Federal agents have executed a search warrant at the headquarters of Whitmore Family Holdings. Sources confirm that the investigation is tied to massive financial fraud, money laundering, and the illegal concealment of corporate assets."
The screen cut to footage of federal agents carrying boxes of files out of the glass tower.
Behind them, Richard Whitmore—Daniel’s father, who had been hiding in their Palm Springs estate for months—was seen being led out of a side door with a jacket thrown over his handcuffed wrists.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table.
It was a text from Victor.
The board just terminated Eleanor's contract. She's out. Effective immediately.
I stared at the screen, a strange feeling of emptiness washing over me.
It was over.
The empire that had terrified me, the family that had treated me like an intruder, had collapsed in less than forty-eight hours.
Suddenly, a heavy knock rattled the front door.
Not the polite knock of a mailman.
A frantic, desperate pounding.
Marianne came out of the kitchen, a wooden spoon in her hand, her eyes wide. "Claire, don't open it."
I stood up slowly, my heart thumping against my ribs.
I walked to the door and looked through the small peephole.
Standing on the porch, completely soaked by the sudden Portland rain, was Daniel.
May you like
His expensive suit was wrinkled, his tie was missing, and his face was bloated from crying.
"Claire!" he sobbed through the wood. "Please! You have to help us! They took everything!"
