Chapter 6 - Day Two — The Gathering Storm
By Friday afternoon, the foundations of the Vance family empire had begun to rot from the inside out, though they were too arrogant to realize the rot was deliberate.
Valerie spent the afternoon at her exclusive designer boutique, *Luxe on Main*, situated in the historic downtown district. The boutique catered to the county’s wealthiest women, selling overpriced European imports and bespoke evening gowns.
"Chloe, hand me that mannequin's sash," Valerie commanded, admiring her reflection in the gilded floor-length mirrors. Around her neck, gleaming against her skin, was Daphne’s stolen silver chain. She hadn't taken it off. To Valerie, wearing the crushed child's locket was the ultimate assertion of dominance over me. "I want the emerald gown in the front window for tomorrow. Everyone coming to the gala needs to know that Richard Vance's daughter is the undisputed queen of this town."
Suddenly, the brass bells above the boutique’s entrance jangled frantically.
Three men in dark windbreakers emblazoned with bold yellow letters entered the shop. **I-R-S CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION DIVISION.**
Behind them were two armed federal marshals.
Valerie turned, her hands on her hips, her lip curling with disgust. "Excuse me? What do you think you're doing? This is a private boutique. You can't just barge in here without an appointment!"
The lead investigator, a severe-looking woman with her hair pulled into a severe bun, pulled a laminated federal search warrant from a leather binder.
"Valerie Vance?" the agent asked flatly.
"Yes! And my father is Councilman Richard Vance, so whatever clerical error you people made, you better turn around right now before he calls your regional director—"
"Ma'am, step away from the cash register and do not touch any computer terminals," the agent cut her off, stepping past her without breaking stride. "Pursuant to a federal seizure order issued by the Southern District Court, this business is being shut down pending an emergency investigation into commercial money laundering, tax fraud, and systematic customs violations involving counterfeit luxury goods."
Valerie’s jaw dropped. "Counterfeit? Money laundering? That's ridiculous! This store does two million dollars a year!"
"Which is interesting," the agent replied coldly, snapping a red Department of the Treasury evidence seal across the front computer monitor, "considering your business only reported eighty-four thousand dollars in taxable gross income for the last three fiscal cycles. Furthermore, your wholesale suppliers in Miami were raided five hours ago. Every shipment you received in the past twenty-four months has been seized."
"Do you know who I am?!" Valerie screamed, her shrill voice echoing off the high tin ceiling. Several customers in the dressing rooms hurried out, clutching their coats in panic. "Get out of my store! Chloe, call my father! Call Daddy right now!"
"Your father’s office at Vance Construction is currently being searched by thirty agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Miss Vance," the agent said, never once raising her voice. "Now, take your personal bag and step outside the premises. If you refuse, the marshals will place you in handcuffs."
"You can't do this to me!" Valerie shrieked, stomping her designer heels into the carpet. "Tomorrow is my engagement gala! Half the state senate is attending!"
"Tomorrow," the agent replied, her eyes narrowing as she glanced down at the silver chain around Valerie’s neck, "your gala is going to be the least of your concerns."
Across town, Richard Vance’s construction headquarters was in utter pandemonium.
Fleet trucks were blocked inside the company yard by federal vehicles. Men in tactical vests were carrying filing boxes out of the executive suites, while digital forensics specialists mirrored every hard drive in the building.
Richard stood in the center of his mahogany office, red-faced, veins bulging along his neck as he screamed into his telephone receiver.
"I don't care if the judge is on vacation in Aspen!" Richard roared. "Find him! Get me an emergency injunction! Some rogue federal bureaucrat is trying to shake me down! What do you mean the accounts are frozen? All of them? The commercial payroll account too?!"
He slammed the phone down so hard the plastic casing cracked.
Eleanor burst into the office, her makeup smeared with perspiration, her eyes wide with terror. "Richard! The bank just called! My credit cards were declined at the caterer’s! The florist said our deposit check bounced! What is happening?!"
Richard took a deep, ragged breath, running his hands through his thinning gray hair. His chest was heaving. He had spent his entire life pulling strings, bribing officials, and making problems disappear with a checkbook. But every number he dialed today either rang without an answer or connected to an automated message stating the line was under federal monitoring.
"It’s Elena," Richard hissed through his clenched teeth. His eyes were wild with venom. "It has to be that little bitch. She must have gone to the state attorney's office. She must have filed some ridiculous domestic complaint that triggered a spite audit."
"How could she do this?!" Eleanor sobbed, clutching her pearls. "After everything we gave her! We let her live in the cottage for next to nothing! We let her bastard play with Julian's old toys!"
"She thinks she can intimidate me?" Richard snarled, his fist slamming down onto the mahogany desk with thunderous force. "She thinks she can destroy Valerie's wedding and my political career over a cut on her kid's cheek? I’ll end her. I will personally go to that hospital, have that child placed into foster care before the sun sets, and throw Elena into county jail for criminal defamation!"
"Yes!" Eleanor cried. "Make her sign the retraction! Make her drop whatever lies she told the state!"
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Richard grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair, his face twisted in a mask of murderous, desperate rage. "Get in the car, Eleanor. We're going to teach my daughter what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you."
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