Chapter 8 - Stripping The Gold
“No! You can’t do this to us!” Ashley screamed, lunging toward me with her manicured nails outstretched.
Before she could take two steps, two private security officers stepped in front of her, pinning her arms behind her back with mechanical efficiency.
“Let go of me! Do you know who I am?” she shrieked, writhing violently against their grip.
“You are a thief, Ashley,” I said, stepping right up to her face.
My gaze dropped to the sparkling jewelry adorning her neck, wrists, and ears.
“Take off the jewelry,” I ordered, my voice dangerously low.
“What?” Ashley choked out, her eyes wide with outrage.
“You heard me. Take off the jewelry. Every single piece.”
“These were gifts!” she lied desperately, her voice cracking.
“Arthur,” I called without looking back.
“Mr. Sterling,” the attorney answered immediately.
“Read the receipts for Ms. Ashley’s accessories.”
Arthur Vance adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses and opened a tabbed ledger.
“On October twelfth, the diamond tennis bracelet on Ms. Ashley’s left wrist was purchased at Cartier Beverly Hills using the Sterling Hospitality emergency contingency account: ninety-four thousand dollars.”
“The Patek Philippe diamond watch on her right wrist was charged to the culinary equipment development fund: one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.”
“The earrings were purchased under company petty cash: thirty-five thousand dollars.”
The Sheriff’s deputies stepped forward, their faces hardened with stern disapproval.
“Ma'am, remove the jewelry immediately, or we will assist the security staff in recovering stolen corporate property,” the lead deputy commanded.
Weeping with fury and humiliation, Ashley’s trembling fingers struggled to unfasten the expensive clasps.
She yanked the tennis bracelet from her wrist and threw it onto the floor, followed by the heavy watch and the diamond earrings.
I didn't flinch; I simply pointed down at her designer red-bottomed Christian Louboutin heels.
“The shoes too,” I said calmly.
“Daniel! Please! Not the shoes!” Ashley begged, her pride completely shattering into dust.
“Take them off. You bought them with money that was meant for Emily’s healthcare fund.”
Sobbing uncontrollably, my arrogant sister kicked off her expensive shoes, standing barefoot on the cold, dirty floor next to the broken glass.
I turned my gaze toward my mother.
Margaret was frozen, her hands trembling over the emerald necklace that rested against her withered throat.
She saw the absolute lack of pity in my eyes, and for the first time in her life, she understood that her maternal manipulation had zero power over me.
“Daniel... please... not in front of these people...” she whispered, her voice cracking with pathetic desperation.
“Take off Emily’s emerald choker, Margaret,” I commanded, every syllable dripping with cold authority.
With shaking, wrinkled fingers, Margaret reached behind her neck and unclipped the five-hundred-thousand-dollar heirloom piece.
She held it out in her open palms, tears of bitter humiliation streaming down her heavily powdered cheeks.
I did not take it from her; I motioned for Arthur Vance to receive it with a velvet-lined evidence tray.
“Every ring on your fingers. Every gold bangle on your arms,” I added relentlessly.
One by one, Margaret stripped off rings, gold bracelets, and pearl earrings that she had stolen from my safe over the past two years.
The grand lady of Beverly Hills was stripped down to a plain, wrinkled woman standing in an empty room, surrounded by the ruins of her own greed.
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“Your twenty minutes started five minutes ago,” I said, checking my wristwatch.
“If you are still on my property when the clock hits zero, the Sheriff will immediately book all three of you into the county detention center for grand larceny.”
