Chapter 8 - The Confrontation
"You told me not to worry myself into a story, Richard," I said, taking off my sunglasses and letting him see the cold fire in my eyes.
"So I decided to read the nonfiction version instead."
Elena grabbed Richard’s arm, digging her manicured nails into his sleeve in absolute panic.
"Richard, who is this woman? Who told her about the flight?"
"She's my wife, Elena," Richard squeaked, his voice cracking like dry wood.
"And she is the sole legal owner of the twelve million dollars you tried to wire to Zurich last night," I added, stepping closer to them.
Richard lunged toward me, his hands reaching out as if he could still bully me into submission in front of two hundred spectators.
"Martha, you don't understand what you've done! Those accounts belong to people who will end your life before sundown!"
"Actually, Richard, those accounts belonged to Victor Romano," a cool, terrifying voice spoke from behind the security partition.
Victor stepped into the terminal, surrounded by four men whose jackets barely concealed the heavy hardware beneath their arms.
Elena let out a short, choked shriek and collapsed back against the ticket counter, covering her face with both hands.
"Victor... please," Elena whimpered, trembling so violently her knees gave out beneath her silk trousers.
"It was Richard's idea! He approached me at the charity gala! He swore he could clean the records without anyone ever finding out!"
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Richard swung around, staring at the woman he had risked his life for, realizing how quickly she threw him to the wolves.
"You lying bitch! You begged me to find a way to get you away from him!"
