Chapter 8 - The Trophy Shatters
While the federal noose tightened around Grant, the first casualty of the collapse was not the Holloway dynasty—it was the grand romance between Grant and his glittering mistress.
Tessa Montgomery had never intended to be an accomplice in a multi-million-dollar federal racketeering case. She had envisioned a life of first-class flights to Dubai, champagne brunches at coastal resorts, and the quiet satisfaction of replacing a tired housewife in a six-million-dollar mansion.
Instead, she found herself trapped in a luxury townhouse whose utilities were about to be disconnected, pursued by IRS agents, and tied to a man whose credit cards were being declined at gas stations.
On a Thursday evening, three weeks after Eleanor’s visit, Natalie received an urgent call from Bradley Cole—Grant’s now ex-attorney, who had resigned from the case citing "irreconcilable ethical differences."
"You might want to check the local evening news," Bradley said dryly. "Grant’s little empire just imploded on camera."
Natalie switched on the wall-mounted television in the kitchen.
The screen cut to live aerial footage from the municipal airport. A sleek, private Gulfstream jet sat on the tarmac, surrounded by four dark blue Homeland Security vehicles with flashing lights.
*“Breaking news tonight,”* the anchor announced, her voice breathless with drama. *“Federal authorities have intercepted twenty-six-year-old Tessa Montgomery as she attempted to board a chartered flight to the Cayman Islands. Montgomery, who has been linked to the ongoing criminal investigation into Holloway Logistics, was apprehended carrying two duffel bags containing approximately four hundred thousand dollars in undeclared bearer bonds, luxury jewelry, and thirty-two encrypted hard drives.”*
The camera zoomed in.
There was Tessa, handcuffed behind her back, her designer trench coat rumpled, screaming obscenities as federal marshals guided her into the rear of an unmarked SUV.
"She tried to run," Marcus said, laughing softly in disbelief. "She took the operational slush fund and tried to leave Grant holding the entire bag."
Before we could digest the scene, the broadcast cut to a handheld camera feed outside the Holloway corporate headquarters in the financial district.
Grant was stumbling down the front steps, surrounded by a dozen reporters with flashing cameras and thrusting microphones. He looked completely unhinged. His hair was wild, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his eyes darting frantically from left to right like an animal trapped in a corner.
*“Mr. Holloway! Did you authorize the transfer of company assets to offshore accounts?”*
*“Mr. Holloway! Is it true your brother has entered witness protection?”*
*“Grant! Did you know your mistress was attempting to flee the country with your assets?”*
Grant suddenly lunged toward a female reporter, knocking her microphone to the pavement. "Get that camera out of my face!" he screamed, his voice cracking into a high-pitched shriek. "This is a conspiracy! My wife did this! Clara set me up! She's a psychotic, vindictive woman who fabricated these records! Clara, if you're watching this, I will destroy you! I will take everything—"
Two city police officers tackled him from behind, forcing his face against the wet concrete steps. The camera shook violently as the crowd gasped, capturing every second of Grant Holloway being cuffed and hauled away in a marked patrol cruiser in front of the entire metropolitan viewing audience.
Owen, who had been sitting on the carpet, looked up at the screen. He recognized his father’s voice. He looked at me, his small eyes filled with a sudden, confusing sorrow.
I turned the television off immediately.
I walked over to the carpet, sat down beside my son, and pulled him into my lap. Lily crawled into the circle of my arms, resting her chin on Owen’s shoulder, while Maya slept peacefully in her bassinet across the room.
"Is Daddy going to jail?" Owen asked, his voice barely a breath against my neck.
"Daddy made some very bad choices, Owen," I whispered, kissing his hair. "Choices that hurt a lot of people. And when adults make choices like that, the world has rules to keep everyone else safe."
"Are we safe, Mommy?" Lily asked, looking up with her big, solemn eyes.
May you like
"We are completely safe," I told them, holding them tight against my heart. "Nobody is ever going to scare us in our own home again. I promise you that."
***
