Page 65 of Legacy Of Ashes
We enter the conference room together, and I feel the shift immediately. These men built their careers on intimidation, but they've never faced a Kavanagh woman with nothing to lose.
"Gentlemen." I don't sit. "We need to discuss your retirement."
Judge O'Malley laughs—actually laughs. "Little girl, you don't know who you're fucking with."
I drop the first photograph on the table. Him, taking an envelope from Vincent Collins outside the courthouse. "March 15th, 2018. Fifty grand to dismiss charges against Danny Moretti."
The laughter dies.
"Councilman Bradley." Another photo lands. "Your offshore accounts in the Caymans. Very creative money laundering through construction contracts."
Bradley's face goes gray. "Those are private?—"
"Senator Morrison." The final image makes him flinch. "Your weekend trips to Vermont. Interesting what people do when they think no one's watching."
Conall moves behind my chair, his presence like a loaded gun. These men can feel the danger rolling off him.
"What the fuck do you want?" Morrison snarls, dropping his politician mask.
"Everything." I lean forward, letting them see the predator in my eyes. "Your resignations. Your cooperation. Your heads on a platter for the FBI."
"You're out of your goddamn mind," O'Malley spits. "We'll destroy you. Your whole family."
"With what? Your little conspiracy is dead. Collins sang like a bird before we put him down." I smile, cold as winter. "He gave us everything. Names, dates, bank accounts. Even the location of Detective Kane's real killer."
The temperature in the room drops.
"That's right. We know who really murdered my biological father. And it wasn't the Morettis like you claimed." I stand, walking around the table. "It was you, Senator. Your own hands."
Morrison's composure cracks. "You can't prove?—"
"Body cam footage from your security detail. Amazing what money can buy, isn't it?" I stop behind his chair. "Twenty-three minutes. That's how long you tortured him before putting a bullet in his brain."
Conall's jaw ticks. Even he didn't know this detail. The rage building in his eyes makes my pulse race.
"So here's what happens," I continue, my voice quiet. "You resign. Tonight. All of you. Then you disappear."
"And if we refuse?" Bradley asks.
"Then I release everything to the media. Your families find out exactly what kind of monsters they've been living with." I place my hands on the table, leaning in. "Your wife, Senator. Your grandchildren, Judge. They'll know everything."
The silence stretches until Morrison breaks. "What about federal prosecution?"
"That depends on how cooperative you are." I straighten. "Full confessions. Every detail. Every crime. Every body."
"How many?" O'Malley whispers.
"Seventeen. Including three cops and a prosecutor." The number hangs in the air. "My father was just the last."
Conall's hand finds my lower back, his touch burning through silk. These men destroyed everything, but somehow led me to him. To this moment. To power I never knew I wanted.
"I need guarantees," Morrison says.
"You need to pray I don't change my mind and kill you myself." I gather the photos. "You have one hour. Resignation letters on my desk, or your families get a very interesting package."
The hospital elevator feels smaller with Conall pressed against me. We just left three broken men writing their political obituaries, and the adrenaline has nowhere to go.
"That was..." he starts.
