Chapter 11 - The Counter-Strike
Harrison slid a thick stack of settlement papers across my lap, resting a gold-plated pen right on top of the documents.
“You have until midnight to sign, Ms. Morgan,” Harrison said with a chilling smile. “Otherwise, child protective services will be forced to evaluate whether a federal defendant facing twenty years behind bars is a fit environment for a newborn infant.”
The threat struck deep into my chest like a physical blade. They were threatening my baby.
Harrison and his guards turned to leave, laughing quietly as they walked toward the door.
“Wait,” I said, my voice cutting through the sterile room with terrifying calmness.
Harrison paused, looking back over his shoulder with an expectant smirk. “Decided to be sensible?”
I slowly reached over to the bedside table, picking up my encrypted secure phone—the one Special Agent Reeves had left with me as part of a secured federal channel. I didn't touch their settlement papers. Instead, I tapped the screen three times, activating the speakerphone feature.
“Agent Reeves is recording this conversation from the federal prosecutor’s office two floors down,” I said loudly, my eyes locking onto Harrison’s suddenly pale face. “And under federal law, attempting to coerce a co-conspirator through intimidation and threats regarding a minor child constitutes direct witness tampering and obstruction of justice.”
Harrison’s smug smile vanished entirely. The color drained from his skin.
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“You… you set me up,” Harrison stammered, taking a panicked step backward.
“Get out of my room,” I whispered, pointing directly at the door as the heavy footsteps of federal marshals began echoing rapidly down the hallway outside. “Tell Viktor Vance that a caged mother doesn't beg for mercy. She arms herself.”
