Chapter 3 - THE FAMILY ALIBI
The ballroom emptied in less than ten minutes.
High-society investors, corporate partners, and distant cousins fled the room like rats from a sinking ship, unwilling to be associated with an unfolding federal indictment.
Only four people remained under the glittering chandeliers: my father, Khloe, Julian in handcuffs between two military police officers, and me.
“Sarah,” my father said, his voice dropping into a desperate, wheedling tone I hadn't heard since I was twelve years old asking for college tuition support. “Sarah, let's not be hasty. Family matters. We can talk to Agent Vance. You have influence with these people—tell them it’s a misunderstanding.”
I turned my gaze slowly toward him.
“Family?” I asked, echoing the word he had thrown at me twenty minutes ago. “Is that what you called it when you told the entire extended family that I disgraced the Sinclair name by enlisting instead of marrying into an oil conglomerate?”
“That was just dinner table talk,” my father stammered, sweating through his custom-tailored tuxedo. “You know how these things go. People exaggerate.”
Khloe was shaking, her white satin dress looking less like a symbol of triumph and more like a shroud.
“You planned this,” she hissed, stepping toward me with her fingernails curled into half-formed claws. “You waited for my engagement party. You wanted to ruin my life because you’re jealous!”
“Jealous of what, Khloe?” I asked, my voice flat. “A rented ballroom? A man who built his entire empire on counterfeit microchips and stolen government subsidies?”
“He was going to buy us a house in the Hamptons!” she screamed, tears finally breaking through her meticulously applied makeup. “Everything is gone! The caterers are texting me for payment! The venue is billing my card!”
Julian, flanked by the MPs, gave a bitter, exhausted laugh.
“Save your breath, Khloe,” Julian said, his head bowed. “She didn't just find a discrepancy in the books. She built the entire case file.”
Agent Vance paused near the double doors, looking back at me with a nod of professional respect.
“Captain Sinclair, the IG team is securing the primary servers at his downtown office. We’ll need your final sign-off on the data logs by 0500 hours.”
“I’ll be at the field office by 0430, Agent Vance,” I replied crisply, snapping a sharp, flawless salute that contrasted bizarrely with the dried red wine staining the front of my Class A uniform.
Vance returned the salute and motioned for the MPs to lead Julian out.
May you like
As they hauled him past my father, Julian didn't look at Khloe. He looked at the hundred-dollar bill still lying on the floor.
He didn't bend down to pick it up.
