Chapter 7 - No Honor Among Thieves
The descent of Reed Whitaker was swift and brutal.
As Marcus dragged him out of the boardroom, federal agents swarmed the fiftieth floor. Handcuffs clicked in front of his peers, his employees, and the local news cameras that Eleanor had generously tipped off.
The public image Reed had spent years cultivating was incinerated in an afternoon. The evening news cycled through the sensational headlines: The Husband’s Deadly Dinner, The Sister’s Betrayal, The Phantom Matriarch Returns.
In an interrogation room downtown, the pressure finally cracked what was left of Reed’s sanity.
Facing life in prison for attempted murder, corporate espionage, and the newly added charge of tampering with a vehicle resulting in grievous bodily harm, Reed tried to play his last card.
“It was Celeste,” he babbled to the federal prosecutor, sweat pouring down his face. “She was obsessed with me. She orchestrated the poisoning. She paid the mechanic to cut the brakes on Maren’s car! I was terrified of her!”
The prosecutor, a stern woman with no patience for cowards, simply pressed play on a tape recorder on her desk.
It was Celeste’s voice.
"Reed planned it all. Here are the text messages. Here are the wire transfers he made to the mechanic three years ago. I'll testify to everything. Just please, don't let him get away with it."
Reed stared at the recorder, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish. Celeste had beaten him to the punch. Eleanor had ensured it. There was no honor among thieves, and when the ship went down, the rats had devoured each other.
Meanwhile, Celeste sat in a modest, heavily guarded apartment. She was under house arrest, awaiting her own trial for conspiracy. She had avoided a life sentence by cooperating, but her life as she knew it was over.
She had no money, no status, and no family. When she tried to call Maren’s number, it went straight to a disconnected line. When she tried to reach Eleanor, the lawyers informed her that any further contact would be considered harassment.
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Celeste poured herself a glass of cheap tap water, looking around the small, bare walls. She had wanted Maren’s life. She had wanted the empire.
Now, she had absolutely nothing but the ghosts of her own terrible choices to keep her company.
