Chapter 4 - The Perp Walk
The federal agents hauled my father up from the table. His custom suit was ruined, stained with wine and gravy. His hair, usually perfectly slicked back, was hanging wildly in his eyes.
"You think you've won?" my father snarled at Julian as the agents dragged him past us. "I have offshore accounts. I have the best lawyers on the East Coast. I will drag this out in court for a decade, and I will bleed your little Vanguard Holdings dry!"
Julian actually chuckled.
"There are no offshore accounts, Arthur," Julian said. "Where do you think Vanguard got the capital to buy your debt? I had my cybersecurity team trace your Cayman Island shell companies three weeks ago. We seized the assets under the Patriot Act. You don't have enough money left to buy a cup of coffee, let alone a defense attorney."
My father stopped fighting. The absolute reality of his situation crashed down on him, crushing the last shred of his arrogant ego. He looked at me, his eyes wide and hollow.
"Elena..." he whispered, his voice trembling for the first time in his life. "Please."
"Take them out," Agent Vance ordered.
The ballroom was dead silent as the agents marched Arthur and Chloe Sterling down the center aisle. The same aisle I had just walked down.
The two hundred guests—the socialites, the politicians, the corrupt board members—watched in absolute horror. As my father passed the rows of chairs, the creditors he had invited suddenly realized their money was gone.
"You bastard!" one of the investors yelled, throwing a glass of whiskey at my father. "You told me my money was secure!"
"Scammer!" another shouted.
The crowd turned into a mob. The police had to form a protective barrier just to get my father and sister out of the ballroom without them being physically assaulted by the people they had robbed.
When the heavy oak doors finally closed behind them, shutting out the wailing of police sirens in the courtyard, a heavy, exhausted silence fell over the room.
My mother was still kneeling on the floor, weeping silently, entirely ignored by the furious guests.
Julian turned to the crowd. He picked up a microphone from the band's stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Julian’s voice boomed through the speakers. "The toxic waste has been removed from the premises. There is an open bar, a five-course meal, and a band that is currently being paid triple their rate to play all night. If you were scammed by Arthur Sterling, Vanguard Holdings will be contacting you on Monday to discuss restructuring. But tonight..."
He walked back to me, wrapping his arm securely around my waist.
May you like
"...tonight is my wedding. And I intend to celebrate my brilliant, beautiful wife."
The crowd stared for a moment. Then, slowly, someone started clapping. Within seconds, the entire ballroom erupted into deafening applause and cheers.
