Chapter 8: The Ultimatum
Chapter 8: The Ultimatum
I placed the tablet on a metal table and linked it to the museum’s central servers. I opened a direct, encrypted broadcast channel.
“The FBI cyber division is standing by,” I said, typing rapidly. “I am about to upload the contents of this ledger, along with the high-definition footage of you assaulting me, to every major news network, the Department of Justice, and Interpol.”
Grant lunged forward, grabbing my wrist. “Don't! Mara, please! I’ll do anything. I’ll sign over my trust fund. I’ll give you the company. Just don't press send.”
I looked at his hand on my wrist.
Then I looked into his eyes.
“Take your hand off me,” I whispered, my voice dripping with absolute venom.
He pulled his hand back as if he had been burned.
“You think this is about money?” I asked. “You think you can buy your way out of the fact that you hit me because you thought I was weak? You thought you owned the world, Grant.”
I hovered my finger over the execution key on the tablet.
“I want you to confess.”
Grant blinked. “What?”
“The microphone is live. The audio is feeding to the main gallery upstairs, and directly to the authorities outside. I want you to confess to the assault. I want you to confess to your knowledge of the money laundering. I want you to give them your father.”
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“If I do that, my father will have me killed,” Grant cried.
“If you don't do that, you’ll spend the rest of your life in federal prison being hunted by the cartels your father betrayed,” I replied coldly. “Pick your poison.”
