Chapter 3 - Federal Intervention
“Ms. Morgan!” Agent Reeves called out again, the sound of his heavy knocks shaking the heavy oak door. “Open up, please! We have a warrant to secure the premises!”
Using the last of my strength, I dragged myself across the slippery marble floor, leaving a damp trail behind me. My fingers hooked onto the brass handle of the door, and I managed to turn the deadbolt.
The door swung open.
Agent Reeves—a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit with sharp, observant eyes—stood on the threshold, flanked by two armed local precinct officers. His authoritative expression instantly melted into stark horror as he looked down at me.
“Get an ambulance here now!” Reeves barked over his shoulder to the officers, dropping immediately to his knees beside me. “Ma'am, stay still. Medical help is on the way.”
“The… the folder,” I whispered, gasping through a contraction as I pointed a trembling finger toward the coffee table. “My brother… Ethan… he brought those papers. Someone forged my signature.”
Reeves followed my gaze. He didn't touch the documents with his bare hands; instead, he pulled a pair of sterile latex gloves from his pocket, carefully retrieving the manila folder. He glanced at the corporate letterhead attached to the back of the deed.
His eyes narrowed. “This isn't just a local real estate scam. This filing number matches a massive corporate fraud investigation we've been running for six months.”
“What… what are you talking about?” I whimpered, feeling my strength rapidly fading.
“The company attempting to acquire your penthouse shell is registered to a holding group called Meridian Holdings,” Reeves said grimly, gently placing a warm jacket over my shivering shoulders. “Your brother didn't just try to steal your apartment, Ms. Morgan. He used your property as collateral in a multi-million-dollar money-laundering scheme without your knowledge.”
The front door burst open as two paramedics rushed in with a gurney, rushing to my side to prep me for emergency transport. As they lifted me onto the rolling stretcher, my phone buzzed violently on the coffee table.
Reeves snatched it up. He glanced at the caller ID before showing it to me.
May you like
It was a text message from Ethan: “Mom says stop making a scene with the police. Sign the papers and text them back, or don't bother coming to the wedding tomorrow.”
Agent Reeves looked down at me, a cold, calculated smile touching his lips. “Reply to him, Ms. Morgan. Tell him you're ready to sign.”
