Chapter 6
The first story broke at 11:02 a.m.
The Nashville Gazette ran it on the front page of their website. The headline was simple. Devastating. Impossible to look away from:
SENTINEL DYNAMICS CEO ANDREW PRESCOTT ACCUSED OF SIX YEARS OF SYSTEMATIC DOMESTIC ABUSE; FULL CONFESSION AND VIDEO EVIDENCE RELEASED
The article included the full text of Andrew’s signed confession.
It included links to the videos.
Redacted.
Edited to protect Emma’s privacy as much as possible.
But clear enough.
Clear enough that anyone who watched could see exactly what kind of man Andrew Prescott really was.
The internet exploded.
By 11:15, #AndrewPrescott was the number one trending topic on every social media platform in America.
By 11:30, the board of directors at Sentinel Dynamics had held an emergency meeting and voted unanimously to fire Andrew with cause. No severance. No golden parachute. Nothing.
By noon, every charitable organization that had ever taken a dime from the Prescott Foundation had issued statements cutting all ties. Returning the money. Disavowing the family name completely.
Andrew watched it all from his study.
Drinking.
Drinking and screaming at the television.
Every channel.
Every website.
Every radio station.
It was all him.
His face.
His confession.
His sins.
Margaret burst into the room at 12:17. She was still in her silk robe, her hair in curlers, her face twisted into a mask of rage and disbelief.
“Andrew!” she shrieked. “What have you done? The club just called. They’ve revoked our membership. The minister called. He says we’re no longer welcome at the church. Elizabeth won't take my calls! What is happening?”
Andrew didn't look at her.
He kept drinking.
“They did this,” he said. His voice was slurred. Dead. “Mercer and his men. They came in the night. They made me sign everything. They threatened me, Mother. They knew everything.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You signed?” she whispered. “You signed the confession? You signed over the house? The money? The children?”
Andrew finally looked at her.
His eyes were red. Bloody.
“What was I supposed to do? They had the tapes, Mother. All of them. Every time I hit her. Every time I kicked her. Every time I threw her down the stairs. They were going to send me to prison. For life. They said they’d make sure I died there.”
Margaret staggered back as if he had slapped her.
“You weak boy,” she hissed. “You pathetic, weak little boy. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Three generations of Prescott legacy. Destroyed. Because you couldn't control your temper with one stupid woman.”
Andrew stood.
The bottle slipped from his hand and shattered on the marble floor.
“Shut up!” he screamed. “Just shut up! You were there! You watched! You encouraged me! You told me it was my right as a man and a husband to keep her in line! You took pictures, God damn you! You kept them as souvenirs!”
He advanced on her.
Margaret didn't flinch.
She never flinched.
“I did what was necessary to make you strong,” she said coldly. “A Prescott man doesn't bow to anyone. Not his wife. Not some retired soldier. And certainly not to a bunch of hired thugs who sneak around in the dark like rats.”
She walked to the desk and leaned over it.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to get ahold of yourself. You’re going to call every lawyer in this state. You’re going to say you were coerced. Tortured. That the confession was signed under duress. That the videos were doctored. That Daniel Mercer is a dangerous, mentally unstable man who will stop at nothing to destroy our family.”
She smiled. It was a sharp, terrible thing.
“People know us, Andrew. They’ve known us for decades. They know we’re good people. Generous people. They’ll believe us. They’ll want to believe us. Because if we’re capable of this... then anyone is. And no one wants to live in a world like that.”
Before Andrew could answer, the front door burst open.
Heavy footsteps in the hallway.
Shouted voices.
“Federal agents! Open up!”
Margaret’s face went white.
“Federal?” she whispered. “What do the feds want with us?”
Andrew knew.
Oh God, he knew.
The confession hadn't just been about the abuse.
It had been about the fraud.
The kickbacks.
The millions of dollars stolen from the United States government.
The contracts that should never have been awarded.
The competitors that had been destroyed by illegal means.
The men who had been paid off.
The women who had been silenced.
He had signed it all.
Every single crime.
“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, no...”
The study door was kicked open.
Six men in tactical gear poured into the room. Guns drawn. Vests marked FBI.
Behind them walked a woman in a crisp navy suit. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. No nonsense.
She looked at Andrew.
Then at Margaret.
“Andrew Prescott?” she said.
Andrew couldn't speak.
“Andrew Prescott,” she repeated, “you are under arrest on charges of conspiracy to commit fraud against the United States, bribery, money laundering, obstruction of justice, and witness tampering. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
She turned to Margaret.
“Margaret Prescott, you are under arrest on charges of conspiracy, obstruction of justice, and accessory after the fact in multiple felony domestic abuse cases. You have the right to remain silent...”
The agents moved in.
Handcuffs clicked around Andrew’s wrists.
Around Margaret’s.
She fought. Screamed. Spat at them.
“How dare you! Do you know who we are? I know the Attorney General! I know the governor! I’ll have all your badges for this!”
No one listened.
No one cared.
They dragged her out.
Andrew went quietly.
Numb.
Broken.
As they led him through the foyer of his beautiful house—his beautiful, empty house—he saw something through the front window.
Parked at the curb.
The old Ford pickup truck.
Daniel Mercer was sitting behind the wheel.
Watching.
Waiting.
Their eyes met.
Daniel didn't smile.
He didn't glare.
He simply nodded.
Once.
A recognition.
An ending.
Andrew looked away.
He couldn't bear it.
The agents loaded him into the back of an unmarked SUV.
The doors slammed shut.
The sirens wailed.
And as they pulled away from the house that had been his entire world, Andrew Prescott finally understood the truth that had been staring him in the face since the moment Daniel Mercer had keyed in that security code.
He had never been the predator.
He had never been the king.
He had just been a very small, very stupid man who had decided to punch a lion in the face and then act surprised when the pride showed up.
And now...
May you like
Now he was going to spend the rest of his life in a cage.
Just like he deserved.
