Chapter 5 - The Fall of Trevor BrooksBefore Trevor could scramble up from the floorboards, four uniformed Federal Marshals and Chicago Police officers swept into the penthouse through the ruined foyer.
"Trevor Brooks and Victoria Vance," the lead marshal declared flatly, holding out official judicial warrants. "You are under arrest for Attempted First-Degree Murder, Aggravated Child Endangerment, Federal Wire Fraud, and Corporate Embezzlement."
CLICK. CLICK.
Heavy steel handcuffs locked around Trevor’s and Victoria’s wrists behind their backs.
Trevor thrashed wildly as he was hoisted up by his lapels, reaching his chained, bloody hands toward me in a final, pathetic plea.
"HANNAH! PLEASE!" Trevor wept, his voice cracking into raw, pathetic screams that echoed down the hallway. "FORGIVE ME! I WAS CRAZY! I LOVE EMMA! SHE'S MY DAUGHTER! TELL THEM TO STOP!"
I looked at the man who had tried to let my five-year-old daughter suffocate for three million dollars.
"You asked what time the funeral was, Trevor," I spoke softly, my clear voice carrying an absolute, unbroken truth. "Now you can ask the federal judge what time your thirty-year prison sentence begins."
Trevor and Victoria were dragged out through the shattered foyer in heavy chains, weeping hysterically as news cameras from local networks—notified by my father’s PR team—documented their total, public downfall on the street below.
My father wrapped his broad, warm coat over my shoulders, pulling me close against his solid chest as we walked out toward the private elevator.
"How is my sweet girl doing at the hospital, Hannah?" my father asked softly.
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I looked up into my father's severe, handsome face, a soft, radiant smile breaking through my tears.
"Dr. Sterling texted five minutes ago, Dad," I answered softly. "Emma’s lungs are cleared. She's awake and asking for her stuffed bunny."
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