"Look, Michelle, I've told you what I expect from you. It's up to you, now. Make the right choice," he said with a smug tone from behind his mahogany desk. The lamps were dim and the room smelled of expensive aftershave- the kind that made her first trimester all the worse.
"We can't possibly get the goods to you that fast! I need time- I need more people! You have to give me something!" she pleaded. She snuck a glance at the clock. Four more minutes. She just needed to stall for four more minutes.
He regarded her quietly before heaving himself to his feet- all three hundred pounds of him. He unfolded his pocket square, patted his neck, and casually folded the small piece of linen back into his breast pocket before his mouth turned into a sour sneer.
"I could have reported you the minute I knew what you were up to, Michelle. But I didn't. Think about that. Think about that before you tell me what you can and can't do."
"That's not mercy, Nic, that's blackmail. You of all people should know the difference," she spat at him. And began to walk backwards. You never turned your back on Nic.
The look on his face as the SWAT team sent the doors flying open was one she would tell her children for years to come.