Chapter 3 - Confessions in the OpenThe static hissed, followed by the sound of pouring water. Then, Warren Pike’s voice rang out through the grand dining hall, crystal clear and damning.
“Tuesday morning. Rafferty will be reassigned before dawn... The construction crews clear at nine fifteen. The truck blocks the front. The second vehicle closes the rear... He goes in, and he doesn’t come out.”
The room erupted into chaos.
Several family members stood up, shouting over one another. Marcus Howerin’s face flushed a deep, furious crimson as he stared at Warren in absolute disbelief.
Warren didn't try to defend himself. He looked at the recorder, then at Emmett, and finally toward the double doors, calculating his odds of making it to the exit before Emmett’s security detail intercepted him.
"Warren," Beatrice whispered, her voice cracking as she looked at the man she had been sharing secret smiles with in the courtyard. "You... you told me it was just a financial restructuring. You said he would just step down!"
Emmett turned his gaze from Warren to Beatrice. The coldness in his pale eyes was absolute.
"You knew," Emmett said softly.
Beatrice’s lower lip quivered. She looked around the table, realizing that every ally she thought she had—every family member who had smiled at her charity galas—was now staring at her with revulsion. "Emmett, listen to me. Warren convinced me that you were freezing us out of the shipping trusts! He said—"
"She helped draft the asset transfer documents," Warren interrupted, his voice turning venomous as he realized he was going down alone. He stood up fully, sneering at Beatrice. "If we're going to share the blame, let's be honest, Beatrice. You were the one who suggested timing it before the wedding so your prenuptial clauses would trigger automatically."
Beatrice screamed, lunging across the table to scratch at Warren’s face. Two armed security guards, summoned instantly by Emmett’s silent gesture, burst through the side doors and pulled them apart, pinning Warren against the wall and restraining Beatrice as she sobbed hysterically.
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Marcus Howerin slumped back into his chair, looking ten years older. "God help us," the old man whispered. "The board... the entire Savannah council will tear us apart."
"Let them try," Emmett said, picking up the recorder and slipping it back into his pocket. He turned to me, standing quietly by the doorway. "Come with me, Elena. We have work to do."
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