Welcome to today’s blog post.
Thanks for stopping by kenwebb69.com. I’m Ken Webb, the author of Trapped in Deception, a psychological thriller grounded in realism and human complexity.
I’ll be straight with you. I meant to post this earlier, but I forgot. Some of you heard me read it out loud instead, but that’s not the same as having it here in black and white. So here it is now, exactly as it was meant to be.
Also, don’t forget to help me choose the final cover for Trapped in Deception. I’ve narrowed it down to three solid options. Just pick the one you think fits best and you’ll automatically be entered into a drawing to win a free copy of the novel once it’s published.
Now, here’s Chapter One. This is where it begins.
CHAPTER 1: DEFINING SHAWN MICHAEL LARSON
2014 Christmas Season
Shawn Larson never wasted an opportunity to take what wasn’t his. On December 22nd, while Dallas was wrapped in festive cheer, Shawn was executing the most dangerous con of his career, meticulously planned for months.
It began ten years ago when he’d assumed a new identity, Michael Buster, and maneuvered his way into a job at Trufunds, Texas’ most successful bank. A decade later, he was CFO. His résumé was a work of fiction, Wharton grad, certified project manager, a master of corporate ethics. But no one at Trufunds had ever known him before he showed up.
That was by design.
While the office hummed with Christmas carols, Shawn sat in his office, untouched by the holiday spirit. His six-foot-three frame exuded effortless confidence, his dark blond hair and chiseled jawline the picture of success. He was exactly the kind of man people admired, but inside, Shawn was a predator.
They gave me everything. They just don’t know it, he thought, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he finalized the last piece of paperwork.
The holiday season meant a reprieve for most of the employees. But not for Shawn. As they sang Christmas carols and prepared for the break, he worked, plotting. He could feel the walls closing in, but the millions that would soon be routed to an offshore account would ensure his future. It would be the last step before his disappearance.
In the breakroom, Brian and William were swapping office gossip, the air thick with stale coffee and the exhaustion of employees counting down the days to vacation.
William, in his late fifties, sat hunched, dark plastic glasses perched on his nose. His six-foot-one frame had a slight stoop, and his thinning hair betrayed the toll the years had taken on him. Brian, younger at thirty-nine, was wiry and jittery, his blond hair receding, worn down by the strain of working under Shawn’s shadow. He took another sip of his bitter coffee, his eyes tired, bloodshot.
“I prepared all of Mr. Buster’s spreadsheets,” Brian muttered under his breath, annoyance edging into his voice. A little recognition, just once… His frustration was starting to boil over.
William smirked, taking a slow sip. “Careful with that overtime, Brian. Trufunds doesn’t exactly reward it.”
Brian rolled his eyes. “Mr. Buster told me not to log it. Said he’d make it up to me with a bonus at the end of the year.” He snorted. “Yeah, like that’s ever gonna happen.”
The door swung open, and in walked Shawn, his presence like a cold breeze cutting through the room.
“Hey, bros, what’s happening?” he grinned, his smile wide and full of self-assurance.
William and Brian instantly straightened, their bodies stiff with forced politeness. Shawn didn’t even notice. He walked past them, grabbing a plate of holiday treats left on the counter without asking whose they were. It wasn’t a question in his mind.
He reached for a cup of coffee without a word, the room feeling like his stage, everyone else simply extras in the play of his life.
Then the door opened again. A man in his mid-fifties, bald, leaning on a crutch, stepped in. When he saw Shawn, he froze. After a beat, he limped out quickly, the speed of his exit surprising for someone in his condition.
William raised an eyebrow. “That was Mark. Broke his leg last year. Said it was an accident.”
Shawn didn’t even spare them a glance. He chewed slowly, the cookie in his mouth barely registering. “Yes, that’s real interesting,” he muttered, more to the air than to anyone.
He left without another word.
Brian and William sat in silence for a moment. The weight of Shawn’s indifference pressed down on them.
“He’s not gonna give me that bonus, is he, Will?” Brian asked, his voice resigned, the edge of bitterness clear.
William sipped his coffee slowly. “Not a chance, buddy. Try not to let it get to you.”
Brian sighed. “You ever notice how he never listens to anyone?”
William’s eyes flickered toward Brian. “Oh, he listens. Just not to us. We don’t matter.”
Brian frowned, shaking his head. “How the hell did he move up through the ranks so fast? He started here ten years ago in a cubicle, and now he’s CFO. What’s his secret?”
William leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “He does exactly what he did to us. He charms the people above him, plays the game, seduces and conquers them. Then when they’re no longer useful to him, he tosses them aside like used tissues. Until he needs them again.”
Shawn paused on his way to his office. He stopped at the restroom, carelessly leaving the toilet seat up. Why should I put it down? Not my problem, he thought, a smile tugging at his lips. He felt untouchable.
As he walked past a few people in the hall, he gave them the barest of nods, his eyes fixed on his goal. He closed the door behind him and hung his jacket neatly on the back of the door.
The paperwork was waiting. He signed it with satisfaction, feeling the finality of the moment. Soon, millions would be routed to an offshore account, and his plan would be complete. He’d been playing this game for years, forging documents, manipulating people, building the perfect façade. But this con? This one would secure his future.
It would be the last thing he ever needed.
Even his marriage had been a transaction. He’d married her for her wealth, discarded her when she was no longer useful, and walked away richer. Her tearful voicemails were nothing more than an echo in his mind, quickly forgotten.
For a split second, as he signed the final paper, a faint, almost imperceptible thought flickered in his mind: What if someone sees it? What if someone puts it together?
It was a brief intrusion, something he never allowed himself to entertain. He shook it off quickly, replacing the doubt with certainty. It doesn’t matter. No one can touch me. Not now, not ever.
He was untouchable. In his world, no one could match him. And in his mind, he never would lose.
That’s it for Chapter One.
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Be good to others and to yourselves, and may God bless you richly.