Chapter 7 - The Raid
On Tuesday of the following week, I received a phone call from Agent Harris at the FBI’s white-collar crime division.
"Ms. Navarro, we've reviewed your audit files," Harris said. "Your forensic work is impeccable. We have enough for a warrant."
"When?" I asked.
"Right now."
I turned on the news in my office. Helicopters were circling the massive Sterling estate in the Hamptons. Dozens of black SUVs tore up the manicured driveway. FBI agents in tactical gear poured out, swarming the property.
News anchors provided running commentary as agents carried out dozens of boxes of physical files, hard drives, and offshore banking ledgers.
Then came the perp walk.
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Charles Sterling, wearing a wrinkled bathrobe, was led out of his front door in handcuffs. Victoria trailed behind him, screaming hysterically at the cameras to stop filming, trying to cover her face with a silk scarf.
The empire wasn't just crumbling; it was being actively demolished on live television.
