I didn’t know if Arthur or Evan had tried to track me down. I hadn’t brought my phone with me. Only my burner phone. I thought it didn’t matter. The deed was done. There was nothing they could do to undo what Marc and I had done.
We were married. And only a judge could make us unmarried.
Still, I could feel the pit of dread in my stomach as we got off the plane in New Jersey. The plan was simple. We were going to the estate to explain to Arthur what we’d done.
Arthur was either going to accept it or not. Marc thought he might not be as opposed to marriage as I imagined. Given his success over the past several months at the firm.
Marc thought it might be enough, but I knew he didn’t fully understand. Still, if Arthur didn’t accept what we’d done, Marc would resign his position, then we would go to his apartment in Brooklyn.
He’d already explained it was completely crowded and we would basically be sharing a couch until he could find work at another firm. But that was fine. We would be together, and free, and married.
It wouldn’t be out of character for Arthur to be petty and try to blackball Marc from several prestigious firms, but he wouldn’t be able to stop him from getting a job somewhere. Not with Marc’s résumé.
We made our way down the tunnel which led to the gate. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Marc had a smile playing around his mouth. Not a full-out smile, but a small, satisfied one that reminded me what I did for him. I brought him pleasure and smiles and easy times. With me, and only with me, he could escape from the loss and anger that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him.
He was happy with me. No matter the trouble I brought on him, I also brought him a sense of peace. He had to see that. He had to be able to compare the difference of his feelings when he was with me, and when he was without me. At least I hoped he did.
Maybe it was because I was looking at him, at his expression, I didn’t notice the two men in suits who stood at the end of the gate as if they were waiting for someone.
“Marc Campbell?” the one suit said, stepping forward.
They both wore navy blue suits, white shirts with red ties. They had short hair, military-style haircuts, and both had the same serious expression.
“Yes, I’m Marc Campbell.”
“This is Agent Bellevue. I’m Agent Warren.”
The agent named Warren handed Marc a document.
“That’s a warrant for your arrest.”
“No,” I gasped. This wasn’t happening.
“Charges of fraud and embezzlement. We’ll need you to come with us for processing.”
“What the fuck?” Marc raged. “Is this a joke?”
“No joke, sir. A complaint was filed by your employer three days ago. Our investigation shows a direct transfer of money from your work account, to a personal account, in the amount of two thousand dollars.”
I looked over at Marc and he closed his eyes. “That wasn’t…I didn’t embezzle that money. That money was mine. It was what I earned.”
“Sir, that money was not yours,” the agent named Bellevue said. “But that’s not what we’re interested in. What we would really like to know is what you did with the twenty million dollars you stole?”
I closed my eyes and felt the world turn black. The insidious cold of my father’s plot chilled the air around us, making it so hard to breathe.
But I had to breathe. I couldn’t let myself collapse on the spot. Not when I knew Marc needed me.
“This is a mistake. My father is doing this,” I tried to tell the agents, but they were impervious to my pleas.
“You have a previous charge for resisting arrest, so we’re going to need to handcuff you,” Warren said, extracting a pair of cuffs from what appeared to be some type of utility belt. When he shifted his jacket, I saw the gun on his hip.
“No!” I screamed.
“Ash,” Marc barked at me, even as he was turning his back on the agent so they could lock his hands together. Around us, people were starting to stare. “I need you to calm down. We’ll get this sorted out.”
“How? How are we going to beat this? You know he set you up. You know it! This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have let you get involved. I didn’t know he would be this ruthless. I thought he would let me go. I did this to you. This is my fault.”
I could feel myself panting. Could feel my lungs starting to heave and reject the oxygen I desperately needed.
“Ashleigh, look at me,” Marc said, getting up in my face. His hands were cuffed behind his back so he couldn’t touch me. I tried to pull at his arm as if I could will them to come apart. “Look at me and breathe.”
“I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “Please don’t hate me.”
“We’re going to figure this out. I didn’t do anything wrong. We both know this is temporary. You need to trust me.”
I shook my head. “This is him. This is them.”
“They can’t prove I did something I know I didn’t do. We just need to work through this. Do you get me? We can do this, but I need you to be strong.”
“Let’s go,” one of the agents said, as he pulled Marc away.
Strong? My knees were threatening to crumble. Still, I managed to follow them through the airport, out to where they had a car waiting to take him away. As they walked him through the airport, they read him his rights, explained he would be taken to the New Jersey field office for processing, before being transferred to the Metropolitan Correctional Center in New York, as the charges were being filed from the Southern District of New York.
“I’ll find you there,” I told him, as they pushed on his head to force him into the back seat of the car. “I’ll bring bail money.”
The car door shut, and I could do nothing but stare as the agents drove away with my husband.
“Ashleigh.”
I heard my name, but it sounded muffled. Like everything I was hearing was coming at me through some kind of a fog. My head felt thick. My body felt weighted. They’d taken Marc. They’d arrested Marc. Because of me. Because of what I asked him to do. For the second time, he’d been arrested because of something related to me.
Twenty million dollars. Not two thousand.
“Ashleigh!”
I turned then, and saw Arthur coming toward me through the crowds of people navigating the sidewalk. His face was flushed, bloated. Like he’d been on a drinking bender for days.
He stopped before me and I could see the rage in his eyes, but it wasn’t like he could hit me in public.
“Let’s go. George is bringing the car around.”
George. Oh, God. I was going to have to tell George what I’d done. What I’d gotten Marc to do for me. George would never forgive me. Never. Not for putting Marc in this kind of trouble.
I shook my head. I would face George, but not today. Today I just had to get away. Find some place to hole up. Figure out how to get the money for Marc’s bail.
But Arthur was quicker, and had his hand wrapped around my arm.
“Let me go, or I will make a scene,” I warned him.
“Make a scene and I will make sure Marc Campbell spends the rest of his life in federal prison. Doubt me?”
I did. Crimes weren’t something you could just create without evidence. As powerful as Arthur and Evan might think they were, they weren’t more powerful than a government agency. Still, I didn’t know enough about the situation to act rashly. I needed to keep my head, and focus.