Another folder appeared.
HOME SECURITY ARCHIVE
Unlike the exterior cameras Ethan proudly displayed around the property, these recordings came from hidden cameras inside the mansion.
Living rooms.
Hallways.
The home office.
Even the front entryway.
One video carried the timestamp from earlier that afternoon.
Everyone in the command center watched in complete silence.
Emily appeared on screen carrying a folder.
She hurried toward the front door.
Before she reached it, Ethan grabbed her by the arm.
She pulled away.
He wrapped both hands around her throat.
She struggled desperately to breathe.
He slammed her backward against a hallway table.
Glass shattered.
She collapsed onto the floor.
The camera angle shifted slightly.
Victoria stood in the doorway.
Watching.
She never moved.
She never called for help.
She never tried to stop her son.
Instead, after several seconds, her voice echoed through the speakers.
“Clean this up before the guests get here.”
The room became deathly quiet.
No one spoke.
No one needed to.
By evening, the grand ballroom that had hosted Easter brunch had become a temporary federal command center.
Television screens displayed frozen bank accounts.
Property seizure orders.
Corporate ownership charts.
Search warrants.
Federal prosecutors moved from table to table coordinating arrests across three states.
Ethan sat in a chair, his expensive suit wrinkled for the first time anyone could remember.
The confidence that had defined him only hours earlier had disappeared.
“This is illegal,” he muttered.
“My attorneys will bury every one of you.”
Rebecca Collins placed a tablet on the table in front of him.
She pressed Play.
The surveillance video filled the screen.
Ethan watched himself wrap his hands around Emily’s neck.
His face lost all color.
Then Rebecca quietly added another piece of news.
“Your lead attorney requested a cooperation agreement with the U.S. Attorney’s Office thirty minutes ago.”
Ethan stared at her.
“No…”
“He turned on you?”
Rebecca didn’t answer.
She simply slid another document across the table.
Signed statements.
Financial records.
Corporate emails.
His own attorney had concluded the case was impossible to defend.
Trying to save himself, he had handed prosecutors everything.
Across another interview room, Victoria received similar news.
Within an hour, mother and son began blaming each other.