Page 115 of Feared

“Yes.”

“Those three plaintiffs worked for you in your businesses, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Machiavelli said, pursing his lips.

“You put them through college and then called in the favor.”

“Law school. I put them through law school.”

“I stand corrected. Otherwise, that’s a yes?”

“Yes,” Machiavelli answered, apparently unremorseful.

“You’re vaguely aware there’s a code of ethics for attorneys, aren’t you? You can’t manufacture litigation. It’s abuse of process. You’re not allowed to recruit plaintiffs, they’re supposed to come to you.”

“Oh really, Pollyanna?” Machiavelli rolled his eyes. “Tell that to the class-action bar.”

Mary ignored it. “You filed a bogus lawsuit, completely fraudulent. You can get disbarred for that.”

“Suspended, at most.” Machiavelli shrugged.

“I would see to it that you gotdisbarred, if I didn’t have bigger fish to fry. You did it because you wanted to neutralize John, because you thought he was the brains behind the antitrust litigation we brought on behalf of London Technologies against Home Hacks and EXMS, both of which you own, one way or another.”

“Yes,” Machiavelli admitted, his brows lifting in surprise. “How did you figure that out?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Mary inhaled deeply, feeling powerful and validated, for once in her life. “And you placed Paul Patrioca at London Technologies as a spy and made him steal their software code and documents relating to the antirust litigation.”

Machiavelli scowled. “How did you findthatout?”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Home Hacks and EXMS are guilty of everything that London Technologies alleged, aren’t they? They’re gouging their customers to maintain monopoly power?”

“Yes.” Machiavelli looked at her coldly. “You done yet?”

“No.” Mary realized something. “I thought you sent those plaintiffs to us to set us up for litigation, but really you sent them to us as spies. When we didn’t hire them, you improvised.

Machiavelli smirked. “You handed me an ace and I know how to play it.”

Mary saw Flavia, who looked appalled, but she didn’t stop now. “You sent that female freelancer Amanda Sussman after us, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And you even sent protesters to John’s memorial service, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Listening, Flavia bowed her head, shaking it slowly back and forth, but she said nothing. Mary noticed Machiavelli glance at his mother, betraying just the slightest microexpression of regret.

Mary asked Machiavelli again, “You sent Stretch to kill John that night in his apartment, didn’t you?”

“Asked and answered.”

“Stretch walked in the front, wearing a suit, maybe even said he was from your office, to talk about the reverse-discrimination suit. He knew he would kill John in the end, so he didn’t worry about a witness.”

“No.”