Chapter 7 - The Panic
The fallout the next morning was instantaneous, though Richard tried desperately to plug the massive media leaks.
Furious rumors of an active FBI inquiry into Mitchell Industries sent his corporate stock plummeting by fifteen percent in a single hour.
Richard went on national television, sweating profusely through his expensive custom suit, claiming it was a vicious corporate smear campaign.
I sat comfortably by the roaring fireplace, drinking warm herbal tea, watching him squirm pathetically on the large screen.
“He is completely cornered, which makes him incredibly dangerous,” Arthur warned me, leaning on his cane.
Suddenly, my old personal cell phone—the one I thought was completely deactivated—rang loudly with an unknown caller ID.
Against Gabriel’s strict security advice, I confidently picked it up and answered it.
“You think you can hide from me, Sarah?” Richard’s voice hissed through the tiny speaker, dripping with absolute venom.
“I know about Arthur, and I know about the massive Blackstone family money.”
My blood ran cold for a fraction of a second, realizing he was much smarter than I had anticipated.
“I am coming for absolutely everything, and I am going to make you watch me take it,” he threatened brutally.
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He had not been playing defense this whole time; he had been silently buying time to launch a massive counterattack.
I calmly ended the call, dropping the phone into a glass of water to fry the internal tracking chip.
