Chapter 4 - Dismantling the Empire**
While Pierce rushed Waverly through the emergency doors of Mercy Hospital—where a team of frantic obstetricians immediately surrounded her, administering warm IV fluids and monitoring the baby’s strong, racing heartbeat—the remaining three brothers returned to the Beckett estate.
They weren't there to yell anymore. The time for yelling had passed. It was time for execution.
Devlin sat in Harrison’s plush leather executive chair behind the massive mahogany desk in the home office. His laptop was plugged directly into Harrison’s encrypted fiber-optic terminal, his fingers flying across the keyboard with terrifying speed.
Harrison stood in the center of the room, flanked by Marshall and Brody, his hands tightly cuffed behind his back with heavy-duty zip-ties. His face was bruised from the initial slam against the wall, and his aura of untouchable mob boss authority had entirely evaporated.
"What... what are you doing?" Harrison demanded, his voice cracking with rising panic as he watched lines of green code and financial data scroll across his high-end monitor. "You can't access those servers! Those are encrypted syndicate accounts! You'll trigger a security lockdown that will—"
"That will wipe out your entire offshore liquidity portfolio in approximately three minutes," Devlin interrupted coldly without looking up from the screen. "You think you're the smartest guy in Chicago, Harrison? You hired cheap firewall architecture from Eastern Europe. My firm audit-tested those exact protocols three years ago."
Marshall stepped closer, gripping Harrison’s shoulder so hard the syndicate boss winced in pain. "You thought you could discard our sister like a broken piece of furniture? You thought you could keep her money, her inheritance, and her dignity while you played house with a corporate parasite?"
"I signed a pre-nup!" Harrison protested, sweating profusely despite the cool air conditioning of the study. "She legally has no claim to my corporate assets! The courts will—"
"The courts won't have time to look at a single piece of paper," Brody chimed in, tossing a heavy, leather-bound ledger onto the desk right in front of Devlin. "Because I just spent the last hour downloading every single digital ledger, text message, wire transfer, and shell-company registry detailing your tax evasion, drug distribution networks, and bribery payments to the city council."
Devlin hit the final enter key with a satisfying, sharp click. Transfer complete.
"Congratulations, Harrison," Devlin said, leaning back in the leather chair with a dark, humorless smile. "You are officially broke. Every single shell company in the Caymans, every luxury condo in Miami, every underground warehouse holding your syndicate inventory—it has all been transferred into a newly established trust fund exclusively owned by Waverly Tate and her newborn child. Furthermore, copies of your complete criminal ledger have been securely emailed to the FBI’s organized crime division, the IRS criminal investigation unit, and every rival boss in the Chicagoland area."
Harrison’s knees buckled. He dropped heavily onto the imported Persian rug, staring up at the three men in sheer, unadulterated horror. "You... you ruined me. You destroyed everything I built."
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"You built nothing," Pierce’s voice echoed from the doorway as he strode back into the study, his expression radiant with a bright, triumphant smile. "You inherited a gang of thugs and stole a good woman's youth. But you're done, Beckett."
Pierce crouched down so his face was inches from Harrison’s terrified eyes. "And just so you know... my sister gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl twenty minutes ago. She doesn't need your name. She doesn't need your money. And by sunrise, federal marshals are going to drag you out of this house in leg irons."
