Chapter 244
I reached into my bag and pulled out a thick stack of paper. I tossed it onto the coffee table. It landed with a heavy slap.
“Bank of George Town. Account number 774-902. Beneficiary: Arthur Sterling. Date: yesterday.”
Arthur lunged for the papers. He flipped through them, his hands shaking so hard the pages rattled. His face went from red to a terrifying shade of gray.
“Where… how did you get these?” he whispered. Then he looked up, snarling. “It’s fake! You forged these too!”
He began to tear the pages, ripping them into shreds, throwing the confetti into the air. “There! No proof! It’s gone!”
I watched him calmly. Then I reached into my pocket and pulled out a silver USB drive. I held it up, letting it catch the light.
“That was a photocopy, Uncle,” I said. “The originals? The digital trail? The IP addresses? They’re on this drive. And a copy is currently being decrypted by the District Attorney.”
Victor rushed forward. “Give me that!”
He lunged at me.
Two men in dark suits stepped out from the shadows in the hallway—Vance security. One caught Victor by the wrist and twisted. Victor yelped, dropping to his knees.
“Let him go!” Petunia screamed, rushing down the stairs.
Then the sound came.
Whoop-whoop.
Sirens. Not one. Many.
Arthur stopped tearing the paper. He looked toward the window. Blue and red lights flashed against the drawing-room walls, painting us all in the colors of the law.
“What have you done?” Arthur whispered.
The front door burst open.
“FBI! Nobody move!”
A dozen agents in tactical vests swarmed the room, precise and overwhelming.
“Arthur Sterling,” the lead agent announced, holding up a warrant, “you are under arrest for wire fraud, money laundering, and conspiracy under the RICO Act. We have verified the recent transfers to known syndicate accounts.”
“No!” Arthur backed away, bumping into the fireplace mantel. “I’m a pillar of the community! This is a mistake! My niece… she’s mentally unstable! She set me up!”
𝗖𝗼𝗺𝘱le𝘵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝘰𝘳𝗂e𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝘣𝖾𝗅n𝘰𝘃e𝗹ѕ.c𝘰𝘮
An agent grabbed Arthur’s arms, forcing them behind his back. The click of the handcuffs was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.
“You have the right to remain silent,” the agent recited.
“Petunia! Do something!” Arthur yelled as he was dragged toward the door.
Petunia stood frozen, clutching her trunk. An officer approached her.
“Mrs. Sterling, you and your son are in violation of your bail conditions. You were explicitly ordered not to return to this property or remove any assets.”
“I didn’t take anything!” Petunia wailed, dropping the trunk. It burst open, spilling silverware and antique vases onto the floor.
“Cuff them,” the officer ordered.
“Skye! Please! He’s your uncle! Don’t let them take him! We’re family!” Petunia screamed as cold metal locked around her wrists.
I looked down at her. I remembered how she had laughed when Liam humiliated me at the gala. I remembered how she had helped sell off my mother’s jewelry.
“Family?” I asked. “Family doesn’t steal your tuition fund to buy Hermès bags, Petunia.”
“We’ll pay it back!” she sobbed. “I promise!”
“You can’t pay it back,” I said. “Because you’re broke.”