Chapter 9 - THE REMAINS OF THE DYNASTY
Eleanor Vance did not touch the papers on the coffee table, but her gaze remained locked on the federal court seal with the fixed intensity of a predator realizing it had walked into a trap.
“Dashcam footage can be manipulated,” Eleanor said, though her voice lacked its initial venom, dropping into a defensive, hollow rattle. “Computer files can be falsified by disgruntled employees looking to seize control of the corporate boards.”
“You can’t falsify a thermal-recovery flash memory card pulled directly from the chassis of Richard’s own SUV,” I replied, taking a slow step toward her until the physical height difference between us became a subtle tactical advantage. “Nor can you falsify the bank records showing three million dollars transferred from Sterling Enterprises into an offshore account registered under your son’s personal residential address—an account that conveniently funded your own private charity foundation last quarter.”
Eleanor stepped back, her heel catching on the edge of the Persian rug before she regained her footing with a sharp gasp. “My charity has nothing to do with Richard’s business affairs! I’ve spent thirty years building my reputation in this city as a philanthropist and a patron of the arts!”
“And every single gala, every gallery opening, and every board seat you’ve held was subsidized by stolen capital,” Arthur Sterling added, stepping out from the shadows of the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. “The federal investigators are already auditing your foundation’s accounts, Eleanor. Don’t be surprised if your own assets are frozen by Friday afternoon under the civil forfeiture laws.”
Eleanor’s face lost its remaining traces of color, her carefully applied makeup looking like a grotesque mask over skin that had suddenly turned gray with panic. “You’re destroying our family over a business dispute,” she whispered, her voice cracking with genuine disbelief. “Richard made some aggressive financial miscalculations, yes, but he’s still my son. He’s the sole heir to the Vance name.”
“The Vance name is currently being cataloged in a federal holding cell,” I said quietly, walking back over to the bassinet to check on Grace, who was still sleeping peacefully beneath her pink woolen blanket. “And you’re welcome to join him down at the precinct if you’d like to explain your role in laundering his corporate kickbacks.”
Eleanor stood frozen for three long seconds, her eyes darting between Arthur’s hardened expression and my calm, unwavering stance, before she turned on her heel and practically fled toward the receiving room doors, her designer heels clicking frantically against the hardwood floor until the heavy oak slid shut behind her.
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“That should keep her out of our hair for at least twenty-four hours,” Arthur noted, walking over to the coffee table and picking up the federal summary reports.
“She won’t be a problem much longer,” I said, looking down at my sleeping daughter with a quiet, fierce resolve. “Once the arraignment is finished tomorrow morning, Richard’s world will shrink to a six-by-eight concrete box where no amount of money or charm can buy him out.”
