Chapter 3 3

The rear doors of the sedan swung open. Two men in identical black suits stepped out. Their faces were blank, carved from stone.

Before Dorothea could process what was happening, they grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her off the ground.

"Who are you?" she croaked, her legs dragging uselessly beneath her. "Let me go!"

"Miss Fowler, you're coming with us," the man on her right said. His grip was like a steel vice, bruising her bicep through the thin silk of her dress.

They shoved her roughly into the backseat and slammed the door.

The car sped away from the Hendrix estate. Dorothea slumped against the leather seat, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. She watched the street signs flash by. They were heading toward Manhattan.

When the car finally stopped, she looked out the window and let out a shaky breath. The towering glass facade of the Fowler Group headquarters loomed above them.

Her family. They had sent someone to find her.

The men pulled her out of the car and marched her through the private underground garage, straight into a private elevator.

The doors opened on the executive floor. They dragged her down the quiet, carpeted hallway and pushed her through the heavy oak doors of the secret boardroom.

Her father, Jeff Fowler, sat at the head of the long mahogany table. Her mother, Anissa, and her older brother, Jeremy, stood near the window. Their faces were ashen.

"Mom!" Dorothea sobbed, stumbling forward. She reached out her shaking, mud-caked hands. "Someone set me up! They faked messages on my phone!"

Anissa Fowler looked at her daughter's ruined dress and filthy hands. She took a quick, sharp step backward, avoiding Dorothea's touch entirely. "Look at you," Anissa gasped, her face twisting in disgust. "You're dripping dirty water all over the Persian rug!"

The physical rejection felt like a knife slipping between Dorothea's ribs. She froze, her hands hovering in the empty air.

Jeff Fowler slammed a thick manila folder onto the table. The sound echoed like a gunshot.

"Set up?" Jeff yelled, a vein bulging in his neck. He wasn't angry at the injustice. He was terrified. "Alfredo Hendrix just called me personally!"

Dorothea stopped breathing.

"He gave the Fowler family two choices," Jeff said, his voice cracking with panic. "Choice one: We cut all ties with you. We disown you, and you face his wrath alone."

He swallowed hard, leaning over the table.

"Choice two: Every single asset the Fowler Group has on Wall Street will be shorted into bankruptcy the second the market opens tomorrow."

Dorothea stared at her father. Her brain struggled to process the words.

Jeremy took a step forward. "Dad, Dottie wouldn't do this-"

"Shut up, Jeremy!" Jeff roared, shooting his son a lethal glare.

Anissa pressed a tissue to her eyes, her voice shrill. "What are we supposed to do, Dorothea? The Fowler name is ruined! He will destroy everything our family has built for generations! It's over... it's all over. You brought this monster to our door!"

Dorothea looked at the three of them. The realization crashed over her, heavy and suffocating.

She wasn't rescued. She was delivered here for sentencing. Alfredo didn't even have to touch her. He just squeezed her family's bank accounts, and they were throwing her to the wolves.

The tears stopped falling. A strange, hollow numbness spread through Dorothea's chest. She slowly stood up straight, ignoring the agonizing pain in her legs. She looked at the people who raised her, and a broken, ugly smile twisted her lips.

"So," she whispered, her voice dead. "You picked choice one."

The boardroom was dead silent. No one looked her in the eye.

The heavy oak doors clicked open. Two uniformed NYPD officers walked into the room.

"Dorothea Fowler?" the lead officer asked, holding up a piece of paper. "I have a warrant for your arrest in connection to a homicide. Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Her father looked away. Her mother covered her face.

Dorothea slowly turned around. The cold, heavy steel of the handcuffs snapped shut around her wrists.