Chapter 5 - THE ARRIVAL OF THE FEDERAL MARSHALS
The Greenwich estate,
once a sanctuary of untouchable elite wealth,
now echoed with the heavy footfalls of federal law enforcement officers securing every exit.
Additional agents poured through the French doors leading to the sprawling rear gardens,
ensuring that no documents could be shredded and no digital drives could be wiped clean.
Richard stood frozen by the bay window,
his hands raised slightly in surrender as two marshals advanced toward him with cold,
professional efficiency.
"Richard Sterling,"
the second agent declared,
snapping steel handcuffs around my stepfather's wrists with a sharp metallic click,
"you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit mail fraud,
money laundering,
and elder financial exploitation."
"You can't do this!"
Richard roared,
thrashing violently against the grip of the federal officers.
"Do you know who my business partners are?
I'll ruin every single one of you!"
"Your business partners are currently being rounded up across Manhattan and Boston,
Mr. Sterling,"
the agent replied flatly,
shoving Richard down toward the marble floor to secure his compliance.
Victoria let out a piercing scream,
collapsing entirely onto the Persian rug as her husband was dragged out of the dining room in chains.
"Sienna!"
she sobbed,
crawling desperately toward my boots and clutching the hem of my black trousers.
"Please!
I'm your mother!
Have mercy on us!"
I looked down at the woman who had spent my entire life trying to diminish me,
treating me as an unwanted military outcast while coddling my useless half-brother.
"Where was your mercy,
Mother,"
I asked quietly,
my voice devoid of emotion,
"when you forced Dad to sign documents while he was heavily medicated in a hospice bed?"
Victoria froze,
her tear-streaked face looking up at me with sudden,
gut-wrenching horror.
"How...
how did you know about the hospice?"
she whispered.
"I told you,"
I answered,
stepping backward out of her grasp.
"I spent years in military intelligence,
tracking international networks of deception."
"Did you really think a few corrupt Greenwich lawyers and a fading socialite could outsmart an active-duty colonel?"
Arthur Vance,
meanwhile,
was being led past us by Agent Marcus Vance,
his head bowed in absolute defeat as the heavy steel cuffs bound his wrists behind his expensive Italian suit jacket.
"It's over,
Victoria,"
May you like
Vance muttered bitterly as he was escorted out the double doors.
"The colonel had us checkmated before we even walked through the front gate."
