Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Vance
The ballroom erupted into absolute chaos.
Reporters scrambled forward, camera flashes exploding like thunderbolts as journalists jockeyed for position near the stage. Socialites backed away from Eleanor’s table as if she carried a contagious plague.
“That’s a lie!” Celeste screamed, her voice cracking into a desperate, shrill shriek as she pointed a manicured finger at me. “She’s insane! She’s a thief who stole from my mother’s safe! Giovanni Campone is forcing her to do this!”
Giovanni didn't even look at her. He simply raised a hand, making a subtle gesture toward the heavy side doors of the ballroom.
The doors burst open. Four federal agents in navy jackets marked FBI strode purposefully down the center aisle, accompanied by two armed city detectives.
The lead agent walked straight to Eleanor.
“Eleanor Vance, Marcus Vance,” the agent announced loudly, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt. “You are under arrest for corporate fraud, grand larceny, wire fraud, and first-degree conspiracy to commit murder.”
Eleanor let out a choked, desperate sob as the cold steel snapped around her wrists. Her emerald necklace tangled in her hair as she tried to pull away, but the agents held her firm.
Marcus, sitting beside her, tried to bolt toward the kitchen exit, but two of Giovanni’s men casually stepped into his path, blocking him until the federal agents tackled him to the floor.
Celeste backed up against the head table, her eyes wide with terror as she looked from her mother in handcuffs to me standing beside the most powerful man in the state.
“Willow... please,” Celeste stammered, tears running down her makeup, ruined as she held out her hands in a pathetic gesture of begging. “We’re sisters! I didn't know anything about what my mother did! I was just a child! You know I loved you!”
I walked slowly down the steps of the stage, stopping just two feet from her.
I looked at her red dress, her smeared mascara, and the trembling hands that had once thrown my father’s books into the trash and forced me to clean her shoes.
“You said nobody wanted me, Celeste,” I said softly, my voice carrying over the quieted room. “You said my father only kept me out of pity.”
I reached into my small evening clutch, pulled out the tiny brass key on its worn leather cord, and let it dangle between us.
“He didn't leave me pity,” I said, letting the key drop back into my hand. “He left me justice. And he left me the company you tried so hard to steal.”
Celeste collapsed onto her knees, sobbing uncontrollably into the carpet as the police escorted her mother and uncle out through the grand entrance, surrounded by a horde of flashing cameras and shouting news anchors.
May you like
I turned around to face Giovanni.
He was standing at the bottom of the stage steps, watching me with a look of quiet, incandescent pride.
