Chapter 4 - The Freeze Order
Derek’s chief investment partner, Marcus Thorne—the man whose funding Derek desperately needed to keep his firm solvent—stepped backward, away from Derek as if he were carrying a contagious plague.
“You absolute fool,” Marcus whispered, his face twisted in disgust. “You told us she was stable. You told us the trust was secured.”
“Marcus, listen to me!” Derek pleaded, sweating profusely, his expensive hair falling out of place. “It’s a setup! She’s trying to ruin the merger!”
“It isn't a setup, Mr. Vance,” Arthur Vance’s voice cut through the noise as he stepped up to the microphone beside me. He opened his leather briefcase and pulled out a stack of certified legal documents bearing the red wax seal of the State Superior Court.
“My name is Arthur Vance, senior partner at Vance, Sterling & Associates,” Arthur announced to the room. “Forty-five minutes ago, based on the real-time transmission of physical assault and felony coercion, the emergency judicial magistrate signed an immediate injunction under Section 14-B of the Vance-Vance Marriage Agreement.”
Arthur turned his sharp, icy gaze directly onto Derek.
“As of 9:14 PM tonight, Derek Vance, all joint assets associated with Claire Vance have been permanently severed. Furthermore, a temporary asset freeze has been executed against Vance Capital Holdings, freezing $2.4 million in liquid reserves held at First Heritage Bank.”
“You can't freeze my corporate accounts!” Derek screamed, losing his mind entirely in front of his peers. “That money belongs to my firm! I have payroll on Monday!”
“That money was pledged as collateral against Claire’s father’s estate,” Arthur countered smoothly. “And under the terms of the fraud and abuse clause you signed on Thursday, your right to touch those funds was forfeited the second you put your hands on her.”
Patricia rushed toward the stage, her face contorted in pure rage, her manicured nails pointing at my face like daggers.
“You ungrateful little viper!” Patricia screamed, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. “We took you in after your father died! We gave you a family! You’re nothing without my son! Nothing!”
“Your son owes three million dollars to offshore creditors, Patricia,” I said, looking down at her from the stage with complete dispassion. “And you’ve been paying your personal country club dues using funds embezzled from my late father’s children’s charity foundation.”
Patricia stopped dead in her tracks. The color drained completely from her face.
“What… what did you say?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
“Harper,” I said quietly. “Hand the second folder to the officers.”
The grand mahogany doors of the ballroom swung open for the second time that night.
Four uniformed officers from the Metropolitan Police Department walked into the room, led by Detective Miller—a woman I had met privately three weeks ago when I first began compiling the evidence of Derek’s financial tracking and physical threats.
Detective Miller walked straight down the central aisle, ignoring the stunned guests, and stopped directly in front of Derek.
“Derek Vance?” Detective Miller asked, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from her belt.
“This is insane!” Derek backed away, hitting the edge of a guest table and knocking over three champagne glasses that shattered against the floor. “Do you know who my lawyer is?! You can't arrest me at my own wedding!”
“You are under arrest for domestic assault, felony coercion, and attempted financial fraud,” Detective Miller said calmly. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
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Before Derek could run, two officers grabbed his arms, forcing him down onto the white linen tablecloth of table six, crushing the flower centerpiece beneath his chest, and snapped the cold steel cuffs over his wrists.
The sound of the metal clicking shut echoed across the silent ballroom.
