Chapter 11 - THE PRICE OF MY EMPIRE“NICK, SEBASTIAN JUST SENT A VIDEO TO THE NEWS. HE'S CLAIMING YOU ORDERED EMILY'S ATTACK, AND HE HAS DOCUMENTS WITH YOUR SIGNATURE. THE WHOLE CITY IS WATCHING.”
Ava called at 7:12 the following morning.
I was sitting in a conference room with Nora, reviewing financial disclosures.
“What video?” I asked.
“Turn on the television.”
Nora switched on the wall-mounted screen.
A local news anchor stood in front of a photograph of me.
Beneath it, a headline announced that investigators were examining allegations involving a powerful Chicago businessman and his pregnant former wife.
Then the video played.
My face appeared in a recording from an office security camera.
I looked angry.
I was arguing with someone offscreen.
The footage cut abruptly.
My voice followed.
“Make sure Emily doesn't become a problem.”
The video ended.
My stomach twisted.
I remembered that conversation.
It had taken place nearly four months earlier.
I was speaking with Sebastian about the threats against Emily.
My actual words had been:
“Make sure Emily doesn't become a problem for whoever is threatening us. I want her protected.”
The recording had removed the second half.
Nora immediately lowered the volume.
“That's edited.”
“Yes.”
“Can you prove it?”
“The original recording should still exist.”
“Where?”
“Mitchell Holdings' security archive.”
She looked at me.
“Who controlled the archive?”
I already knew.
Sebastian.
Nora sighed.
“Of course.”
My phone began ringing.
Reporters.
Unknown numbers.
Former associates.
People who had spent years pretending to respect me.
Now they wanted to know whether I'd ordered an attack on my pregnant ex-wife.
I switched the phone off.
Nora studied me.
“You're not going to respond?”
“Not publicly.”
“Nick, this could destroy whatever remains of your reputation.”
I looked at the television.
“Maybe my reputation deserves to be destroyed.”
She frowned.
“That's not the same as accepting a false murder accusation.”
“I know. We'll give investigators whatever they need to expose the edit. But I'm not going to use Emily's trauma as a public-relations defense.”
Nora was silent.
Then she nodded.
“Good.”
That afternoon, federal prosecutors held another meeting.
Maya Patel sat across from me with several financial investigators.
A large folder rested on the table.
“Mr. Mitchell, we've identified substantial transfers from your companies into Blue Lantern's accounts and then outward to several shell entities.”
I nodded.
“We've also identified your personal authorization on multiple documents.”
“I know.”
Patel studied me.
“Do you understand how serious this is?”
“Yes.”
“Your former partner appears to have used your corporate structure to finance a network of fraudulent operations. Some funds may be connected to illegal transportation activities and coercion.”
I looked down.
“Are Tessa Grant and Danielle Price alive?”
“We have reason to believe they may be. We're pursuing several leads.”
I exhaled.
Patel opened another file.
“Your cooperation has helped us identify some locations. But I want to be absolutely clear. You weren't simply an innocent businessman deceived by a dishonest employee.”
“I understand.”
“You created an organization built around intimidation. You approved transactions without adequate oversight. You benefited financially from unlawful activity.”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why should we trust your cooperation now?”
I thought about Mara holding Ben.
I thought about Emily listening to our child's heartbeat alone.
And I thought about the countless people whose names I'd never bothered to learn.
“Because I'm finally willing to lose everything that made me powerful,” I answered.
Patel studied me.
“Words are easy, Mr. Mitchell.”
“Then judge me by what I give you.”
I handed her a signed authorization directing my attorneys to preserve and produce records from my businesses in compliance with lawful requests.
Nora had explained the implications.
There would be no more pretending that a carefully worded statement could protect me from the consequences of my past.
Patel examined the document.
“Your attorneys understand this?”
“Yes.”
“And you understand cooperation does not guarantee immunity?”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Then we'll continue.”
After the meeting, I returned to the hospital.
Emily had been cleared to move into a lower-acuity monitored room, although doctors still wanted her resting and avoiding stress.
I expected her to refuse my visit.
Instead, she asked the nurse to let me in.
She sat near the window, a blanket around her shoulders.
The television was off.
“Did you see the video?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I sat down.
“It was edited.”
“I figured.”
I looked at her.
“You believe me?”
Emily studied my face.
“I believe you didn't order someone to kill me.”
The relief was overwhelming.
Then she continued.
“But I also know you've said terrible things in rooms I wasn't allowed to enter.”
I looked down.
“Yes.”
“That's why Sebastian can make those recordings sound believable.”
I swallowed.
“I know.”
Emily's eyes filled with sadness.
“Nick, do you understand what it feels like to love someone and never know which version of him the rest of the world sees?”
I couldn't answer.
“You were gentle with me,” she continued. “You remembered the little things. You made me feel safe when we were alone.”
She looked toward the hospital door.
“But outside our house, people were afraid of you. And I kept telling myself those two worlds could stay separate.”
“They couldn't.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“And now our baby is caught between them.”
I moved closer.
“Emily, whatever happens to me, I want you to have a life free from all of this.”
She stared at me.
“Then help us make one.”
I nodded.
“I will.”
She looked down at her stomach.
“Do you know what scares me most?”
“What?”
“That one day our child will ask who you really were.”
My throat tightened.
I took a long breath.
“Tell the truth.”
She looked up.
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
“Even the ugly parts?”
“Especially those.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
I continued.
“I don't want our child growing up believing powerful people don't have to answer for what they do.”
Emily wiped her face.
For a moment, I thought she might reach for my hand.
Instead, she whispered, “Then maybe there's hope for you.”
Those words stayed with me long after I left.
That evening, a former associate named Anthony Bell called.
Anthony had worked for me for fifteen years.
He was loyal.
Dangerously loyal.
“Boss, we've got people ready,” he said.
“Ready for what?”
“Sebastian. Give us the word, and we'll find him.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The old world offering its familiar solution.
“Stand down, Anthony.”
Silence.
“Boss?”
“No one touches Sebastian.”
“But he tried to kill Emily.”
“Then he'll face charges.”
Anthony sounded stunned.
“You're going to let the police handle this?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated.
“People are saying you've gone soft.”
I looked toward the hospital.
“Let them.”
“Nick, men like Sebastian don't respect weakness.”
I took a breath.
“Then it's time he learned the difference between weakness and restraint.”
I ended the call.
A minute later, an unknown number appeared on my screen.
I answered.
Sebastian's voice greeted me.
“Nick. You're making quite a mess.”
I went completely still.
“Where are you?”
He laughed softly.
“Still giving orders?”
“It's over, Sebastian.”
“No. It's just becoming interesting.”
I glanced toward the detective stationed nearby and signaled for assistance.
Sebastian continued.
“You gave the authorities documents you don't understand. You're helping them dismantle everything we built.”
“You used a women's shelter to hide criminal operations.”
“Don't pretend you're suddenly a saint.”
“I'm not.”
That seemed to surprise him.
I continued.
“I know what I've done. And I'm going to answer for it.”
There was a long silence.
Then Sebastian's tone changed.
“Emily really has gotten inside your head.”
“Leave her alone.”
“It's a little late for that.”
My blood chilled.
“What do you mean?”
“Check your messages.”
The call ended.
A photograph appeared on my phone.
Blue Lantern House.
Taken from across the street.
The blue lantern glowed above the entrance.
Through a ground-floor window, several residents could be seen preparing dinner.
May you like
Beneath the photograph was a short message.
“YOU CAN SAVE YOUR REPUTATION, NICK, OR YOU CAN SAVE THE PEOPLE INSIDE THAT BUILDING. YOU DON'T HAVE ENOUGH TIME TO DO BOTH.”
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