Chapter 11 - Penelope’s Breakdown

"Garrett! Do something!" Penelope wailed from the floor, crawling toward Garrett’s legs. "Tell them it's a lie! Tell them you own the shipyard!"

Garrett looked down at Penelope, then at me, the terrifying realization of his total destruction crashing over him in waves.

"Shut up, Penelope!" Garrett snarled, violently kicking her hand away from his trousers. "You were the one who told me the probate was airtight! You were the one who pushed me to drown them!"

"Me?!" Penelope shrieked, her voice rising to a manic, hysterical pitch. "You poisoned her milk for three years! You brought the thallium home from your father’s lab! You were the one who twisted the wire around her seatbelt!"

Every corporate attorney at the table immediately stepped away, dropping their pens, raising their hands in the air to distance themselves from the open confession of attempted murder.

I smiled—a cold, radiant, and victorious smile.

I tapped the discreet digital lapel microphone on my collar.

"Thank you, Penelope," I said softly. "The United States Attorney's Office, the FBI, and the Baltimore Homicide Division thank you for your sworn, recorded confession."

The double doors of the boardroom swung wide open once more.

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Special Agent Marcus Vance of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, flanked by twelve heavily armed federal marshals and Detective Frank Mercer of the Baltimore Police Department, stormed into the room, their weapons drawn.

"FBI! Nobody move! Put your hands on the table!"