Chapter 7 - The Downfall at the Penthouse and the Mother’s Despair
The penthouse suite on the top floor of the Prescott residence was completely dark, save for the pale moonlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
Aaron Prescott sat alone at his custom oak dining table, a half-empty bottle of expensive scotch resting beside a crystal tumbler.
His jacket was discarded on the floor, his tie was ripped half-off his collar, and his hair was wildly out of place.
He looked ten years older than he had twenty-four hours ago.
The corporate empire he had spent a decade building had slipped through his fingers like dry sand.
The board of directors had officially stripped him of his CEO title at 4:00 p.m. that afternoon.
The federal investigators had frozen all his personal accounts at 5:30 p.m.
And Jasmine Cole—the woman he had risked his marriage, his reputation, and his career for—had just been hauled away by federal agents after handing over the complete paper trail of his corporate crimes.
The heavy front door of the penthouse suddenly unlocked with a sharp click.
Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed across the marble foyer.
“Aaron?!” a shrill, panicked voice shrieked.
Eleanor Prescott rushed into the dining room, her designer coat disheveled, her face pale with absolute horror.
Behind her stood his sister, Victoria, trembling and clutching her phone.
“Aaron, what is happening?!” Eleanor demanded, slamming her handbag onto the table.
“I just tried to use my corporate black card at Saks, and it was declined! The news outlets are reporting that Apex Equity has seized control of Prescott Global! They’re saying federal indictments are coming down tomorrow morning for corporate embezzlement!”
Aaron didn't look up from his glass of scotch.
He slowly swirled the amber liquid, staring into the spinning vortex as if trying to find answers at the bottom of the glass.
“It’s over, Mother,” Aaron whispered, his voice completely hollow.
“What do you mean, it’s over?!” Eleanor yelled, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him violently.
“Call your lawyers! Call Arthur Sterling! Tell them your family built this company! You can’t just let that ungrateful, silent wife of yours walk in and steal everything we worked for!”
“She didn't steal it, Mother,” Aaron laughed bitterly, a broken, ugly sound.
“We gave it to her. For three years, I treated her like a servant. I ignored her, belittled her, and humiliated her in public while I paraded Jasmine around every high-society event in the city.”
He looked up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Eleanor’s terrified face.
“And all the while, she sat quietly in the background holding the controlling shares of the entire parent company that kept Prescott Global afloat. She owned us from day one. I was just a tenant living in her house.”
Victoria gasped, covering her mouth with her trembling hands.
“Claire… Claire did all of that?” she whispered in disbelief.
“She didn't have to lift a finger,” Aaron muttered, dropping his head back down into his hands.
“She just waited for me to hang myself with my own rope. And at 3:17 a.m. yesterday morning, she kicked the chair out from under my feet.”
Suddenly, the heavy front doors of the penthouse opened again.
This time, it wasn't family.
It was the heavy, rhythmic footsteps of three federal marshals accompanied by Nathan Brooks holding a stack of thick legal documents.
“Aaron Sterling Prescott?” the lead marshal called out, stepping into the dining room with cold professionalism.
“You are formally under arrest for corporate fraud, grand larceny, and embezzlement of federal mortgage funds.”
Aaron didn't even try to stand up.
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He simply closed his eyes, let out a long, shuddering breath, and held out his wrists as the cold steel handcuffs snapped into place.
The golden boy of Boston had finally hit rock bottom.
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