Chapter 7 - The Arrest
The music had long stopped, but the drama in the ballroom reached a crescendo. The lead FBI agent stepped forward, flashing his badge at Beatrice.
“Beatrice Hayes,” the agent said, his voice cutting through the stunned murmurs of the elite crowd. “You are under arrest for wire fraud, identity theft, forgery, extortion, and conspiracy to commit child endangerment.”
“No, no, no,” Beatrice backed away, her heels catching on the hem of her expensive gown. “You can’t do this! I am a Sterling! Winston, do something!”
Grandfather stood perfectly still, leaning on his silver-handled cane. “You lost the right to that name the moment you stole from a child, Beatrice. I hope you look good in orange. I hear horizontal stripes are terribly unflattering.”
The agent grabbed Beatrice’s arm, twisting it behind her back and snapping cold steel handcuffs around her wrists. She screamed, thrashing wildly, completely shedding the dignified persona she had spent decades cultivating.
“I’ll ruin you!” she shrieked at me as they dragged her past our table. “You’re nothing but a gutter rat! You’ll never belong in this family!”
“I already do,” I said softly, leaning into Julian’s embrace.
The agents hauled her out, her screams fading down the hotel corridor. The ballroom remained in a state of absolute shock. The city’s wealthiest socialites stood paralyzed, their champagne warming in their hands.
Grandfather turned to the crowd, raising his voice.
May you like
“The gala is over,” Winston announced. “The catering has been paid for. Enjoy the caviar. None of you will ever speak a word of this outside this room, or my lawyers will make Beatrice’s ruin look like a minor inconvenience. Good evening.”
With that, Julian took my hand, Grandfather flanked our side, and we walked out of the ballroom. We didn't look back.
