Empire of Lies - Whitney G. Page 0,101

your friends who will be ashamed to have ever known you. Option two, you still lose everything, but you’re taken someplace where no one gives a damn about what money you have—because you won’t have any left, and you’ll be miserable as hell and never seen or heard from again. You know, just a taste of what you gave to me.”

He’s silent.

“You should know that Page Six and The New York Times—along with every publication in this city, is currently receiving that video. They’ll also receive some dirty laundry about how you started your business, as well several emails that I’m sure you never intended anyone to see. You know, the ones about you not losing any sleep about me being gone, to Aunt Catherine.”

“Meredith...” He shakes his head, looking far more upset about the tarnishing of his reputation than anything else I’ve said. “You didn’t…”

“Yes, I fucking did,” I say. “And actually, this is a two for one deal, so you may want to choose your option carefully.” I step back, and Michael appears—walking behind me.

He opens the back of a white sprinter van, revealing a gagged and bound Aunt Catherine. Dried and cracked mascara stain her cheeks, and her pupils are bloodshot red from hours of crying.

She suddenly looks up, taking in the sights of both me and Michael, and she still looks stunned as fuck.

“She’ll be joining you wherever you go,” I say.

My dad swallows hard as sweat forms on his brow. There’s a pained look in his eyes, but there isn’t any remorse. He knows he’s lost this game. That there’s no chance for a comeback.

Michael takes the gun from me, sliding it into his waistband. “You may want to make that decision within the next ten seconds, Thatchwood,” he says, pulling out his phone. “The police are about to be on their way.”

“Option two,” he says, looking at me. “Option two…”

“Interesting choice.” Michael taps his phone screen a few times, and a yellow cab pulls out from one of the far parking spaces.

Trevor, dressed in a hoodie that covers his face, steps out of the driver’s seat and pops the trunk open. He doesn’t wait for my dad to catch his drift. He pulls out his own gun and forces him to get inside.

He and Michael gently carry my aunt to the backseat—wrapping her in a rug before shutting the door.

The moment Trevor returns to the car and pulls away, the elevator doors on the far end of the hall open. A group of policemen runs into the garage, searching for the man who will now be “gone-gone” from my life forever.

I don’t shed a single tear.

Michael

Now

Thatchwood Victory Party Rocked by ‘Murder for Hire’ Scandal

Leonardo Thatchwood Flees the Country after Bombshell Video Surfaces; Interpol Issues Arrest Warrant

The ‘Thatchwood Story’ Optioned for DocuSeries with Netflix: “Craziest [Shit] We’ve Ever Purchased!”

Meredith Thatchwood Requests Privacy; Asks That the Press Print Her Name as “Meredith Anderson”

Meredith Anderson Takes Control of Thatchwood’s $4B Trust and Claims $18M Inheritance

Today is the first time in forever that the mainstream media’s headlines haven’t made me want to question the so-called journalists who write them. Then again, these are only the first five alerts that popped up on my phone today, and I know that there will be thousands more by this afternoon.

Meredith’s father and his twisted ways are dominating the news cycle in a way I’ve never seen before. It’s beyond the typical “shock and outrage until we’re onto the next big story” pattern. It’s full-blown hysteria.

The story is being discussed on all the cable news networks–for hours at a time. Publishers have announced ten books (so far) to be written by first-rate crime authors who want to delve deeper into the story, and local reporters have used every waking moment to catch Meredith in action, to ask her questions.

Even though she’s repeatedly denied their requests, their thirst for the story of “Billionaire Tries to Have Daughter Murdered” is too addictive for them to care. And even though she’s more than satisfied with the thought of him being abandoned in a third-world country that lacks internet and electricity, she’s still coping with how far he was willing to go to get rid of her.

It’s why we’ve been holed up in my upstate condo for the past week and a half. We don’t discuss the news or the headlines—we only glance at them here or there. Instead, we spend our hours senselessly fucking and making up for all the time we lost when she