Chapter 9 - The Reckoning Of Law
Greg, Ashley’s husband, suddenly made a desperate dash toward the back service exit.
He thought he could slip away into the dark gardens and escape the legal dragnet closing around them.
He didn't make it five yards before two armed security guards tackled him hard onto the parquet floor, pinning his chest flat against the wood.
The lead Sheriff’s deputy walked over, pulling a set of steel handcuffs from his utility belt.
“Gregory Miller?” the officer asked, pressing his knee firmly into Greg’s shoulder blades.
“Yes! Yes! Please don't hurt me!” Greg squeaked in sheer terror.
“You are under arrest pursuant to an active arrest warrant issued by the District Attorney’s Financial Crimes Division,” the deputy stated, snapping the cold steel cuffs around Greg's wrists with a sharp, metallic click.
“Charges include five counts of grand theft, three counts of corporate identity theft, and two counts of interstate bank fraud.”
“Ashley! Help me! Call our lawyer!” Greg screamed as he was dragged to his feet by his collar.
Ashley fell to her knees on the floor, clutching her bare feet, completely catatonic from the total collapse of her lavish lifestyle.
She couldn't call a lawyer; every single credit card and bank account associated with their names had already been frozen by court order three hours ago.
They were penniless, homeless, and facing decades in federal prison.
The tow trucks outside roared their engines, the loud metallic winches groaning as they dragged the luxury sports cars up onto the flatbeds.
Michael scrambled around the room, desperately trying to stuff bottles of stolen liquor and leftover lobster tails into a plastic trash bag like a common scavenger.
“Get out, Michael,” I said, looking down at my pathetic younger brother.
He dropped the bag, looked at me with bloodshot, terrified eyes, and bolted out the front doors into the dark canyon night.
Margaret slowly walked toward the front entrance, her head bowed in profound shame.
Before she crossed the threshold, she turned back one last time, looking at me with hollow, broken eyes.
“I am your mother, Daniel...” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant sirens.
“How could you destroy your own blood for this worthless girl?”
I felt Emily’s hand tighten slightly in mine, but this time, her grip was not born of fear; it was born of profound, unshakeable strength.
“My blood stopped meaning anything to me the moment you made my wife bleed,” I answered, staring directly through her soul.
“You are not my mother anymore, Margaret.”
“You are simply a stranger who used to share my last name.”
Margaret choked back a bitter, dry sob, turned around, and walked out into the cold night without a single dollar, a single car, or a single shred of dignity left to her name.
The heavy mahogany double doors slammed shut behind her, echoing through the empty mansion like the closing of a tomb.
Arthur Vance stepped forward, bowing his head respectfully toward Emily and me.
“The locks on all exterior gates and doors are currently being replaced by our security team, Mr. Sterling,” Arthur said smoothly.
“Restraining orders will be served officially at their temporary lodgings tomorrow morning.”
“The police will escort the remaining detainees off the premises immediately.”
“Thank you, Arthur,” I said, nodding firmly. “Ensure that the District Attorney seeks maximum sentencing on every single felony count.”
“It will be done, sir,” Arthur replied before turning to coordinate with the officers.
Within minutes, the last of the police cruisers, tow trucks, and security personnel filed out of the estate.
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The iron gates closed shut, locking the toxic parasites out of our world forever.
Silence, pure and holy, finally returned to our home.
