Chapter 6 - Ambush at the Drake Hotel
The preliminary hearing for the protective order and asset recovery was held at the Dirksen Federal Courthouse, followed by a mandatory mediation session arranged at the private conference suites of the historic Drake Hotel.
Derek arrived flanked by three expensive defense attorneys. He looked exhausted, bags under his eyes, his once-pristine arrogance replaced by a frantic, cornered desperation.
When Emily walked into the suite, Derek jumped to his feet.
“Emily!” he cried out, moving toward her.
Alexander stepped between them, his towering frame cutting off Derek’s advance like a brick wall. Marco stood silently by the door, arms crossed, his jacket bulging slightly over his concealed holster.
“Sit down, Mr. Carter,” the court mediator said firmly.
Emily did not cower. She wore an ivory tailored suit, her hair pinned up elegantly, her back straight. She sat beside Alexander and Julian.
Derek stared at her, his hands trembling on the table. “Emily, please. We can settle this out of court. Drop the SEC charges. Drop the assault complaint. I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll give you five million dollars. Just stop letting this criminal control your life!”
Alexander smiled—a cold, terrifying grin that made Derek’s lawyers shift uncomfortably.
“Mr. Carter,” Julian Croft spoke up smoothly, opening a thick leather binder. “You don't have five million dollars. As of ten o’clock this morning, the federal judge approved the seizure of your personal offshore accounts to repay Miss Carter’s nine-million-dollar inheritance, plus twenty-four percent compound interest.”
“What?!” Derek roared, turning to his lead lawyer. “You said they couldn't touch the Cayman accounts!”
“They couldn't,” the lawyer stammered, wiping sweat from his forehead. “Unless… unless the Cayman banking authority was provided with irrefutable proof of wire fraud. Which Mr. Moretti personally delivered this morning.”
Derek’s face turned purple. He slammed both palms onto the table, leaning forward toward Emily. “You think you won, you little bitch?! You’re nothing! You were a broke art student when I found you, and you’ll be a mafia whore when he gets bored of you!”
*BAM.*
Alexander’s hand moved with lightning speed. He gripped Derek by the throat, lifting him half an inch off his chair and pinning him back against his seat before Derek’s lawyers could even draw breath.
“Say another word,” Alexander whispered, his voice deadly calm, his eyes burning with lethal intent. “And I will ensure you spend the next thirty years in a maximum-security federal penitentiary where every guard answers to my surname.”
Derek choked, his face turning blue, clutching at Alexander’s fingers.
“Alexander,” Emily said softly.
Alexander froze at the sound of her voice. Slowly, deliberately, he released his grip. Derek slumped into his chair, gasping for air, clutching his neck.
Emily stood up, looking down at the man who had terrorized her for years.
“Sign the divorce papers, Derek,” Emily said, her tone absolute and freezing. “Or you will leave this room in handcuffs today.”
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Trembling, Derek took the pen from his lawyer’s shaking hand and signed the documents.
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