Chapter 16 - The Trap Snaps Shut
Twenty-four hours later.
The penthouse suite of the *Charleston Harbor Hotel* had been booked under the name of *Apex Media Group*.
Margaret sat at a glass table, wearing a borrowed dress that was slightly too large for her, adjusting her hair while a sleazy freelance journalist named Brett Sterling set up a digital video camera on a tripod.
"Now, Mrs. Whitmore," Sterling said, adjusting his microphone. "You understand the terms? You provide the handwritten letters claiming Emily Carter engaged in financial extortion and fabricated her domestic abuse claims, and my network wires the fifty thousand dollars to your offshore account."
"Every word is the absolute truth," Margaret purred, putting on her best aristocratic accent. "Emily was an unstable, vengeful girl. My poor son was terrified of her. She bruised herself on purpose that afternoon just to summon her billionaire father to execute a hostile takeover!"
"Fascinating," a voice spoke from the shadows near the entrance of the suite. "Truly a work of fiction worthy of an Oscar."
Margaret and Brett Sterling both leaped up, turning toward the door.
The master lock on the penthouse door clicked, and the double doors swung open.
Four federal agents wearing FBI windbreakers stepped inside, followed immediately by Julian Vance and Alexander Carter.
Brett Sterling’s face turned white. He immediately lowered the video camera. "Hey... what is this?! This is a private journalistic interview! You can't violate my First Amendment rights!"
"You're not a journalist, Mr. Sterling," Julian Vance said smoothly, walking forward and tossing a search warrant onto the table. "You're an unregistered lobbyist currently on probation for wire extortion in the state of Florida. And as of five minutes ago, you and Mrs. Whitmore are under arrest for conspiracy to commit witness tampering, extortion, and interstate distribution of forged judicial evidence."
Margaret shrieked, backing away toward the balcony doors. "This is harassment! You planted this! I have the right to speak to the press!"
"You have the right to remain silent, Margaret," Alexander Carter spoke, his voice booming like thunder in the penthouse suite.
Alexander walked up to the table, picking up the stack of handwritten letters Daniel had signed from his prison cell.
"Did you really believe, Margaret," Alexander said, his eyes filled with absolute contempt, "that you could touch my daughter's honor twice?"
Alexander tore the fabricated letters in half, dropping the pieces into Margaret’s cold cup of tea.
"Your son just signed away his last chance at a plea bargain," Julian stated, gesturing to the FBI agents. "By attempting to fabricate evidence against a federal witness in an active murder investigation, Daniel Whitmore’s bail revocation has been made permanent. And you, Mrs. Whitmore, will not be returning to your boarding house tonight."
The two federal agents stepped forward, pulling Margaret’s arms behind her back.
The cold steel of the handcuffs clicked around Margaret’s wrists.
"No! No!" Margaret screamed, thrashing against the agents' grip as they led her toward the door. "Daniel! Save me! I am Margaret Whitmore! You can't put me in a cage!"
As she was dragged past Alexander Carter, the old billionaire leaned down, his voice cold and final.
"Sixty dishes, Margaret. That was what you demanded of my daughter on your birthday."
Alexander smiled—a grim, terrible smile.
"I hear the federal cafeteria in Lexington serves three meals a day. You won't have to cook a single one. But you will eat whatever they give you off a plastic tray for the next seven years."
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Margaret’s shrieks echoed down the hotel hallway as she was dragged into the elevator, leaving the room in profound, triumphant silence.
***