Chapter 2 - The House of Cards Collapses
The quiet in the room was absolute. You could hear the slow, rhythmic drip, drip, drip of red wine falling from my dress uniform coat onto the white marble floor.
"Investigator?" Jessica stammered, looking between me and the silver-haired agent. "No. No, she’s just an logistics manager at the local army base! Dad said—"
"Dad doesn't know anything about my work," I said softly, looking at my father. "He never bothered to ask. He just assumed that because I wore camouflage instead of Italian silk, I had failed."
My father’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. His eyes shifted from my stain-soaked ribbons to the federal agents now surrounding his prized future son-in-law. For a man who built his entire reputation on control, the ground was rapidly disappearing beneath his feet.
"Preston Sterling, keep your hands where I can see them," Agent Miller commanded.
Preston dropped his smooth act. Panic tore through his refined expression. "Richard! Do something! Call the governor! Call our legal team!"
My father reached for his phone, his hands visibly trembling. "I’ll call Judge Harrison right now. This is a political hit job—"
"Don't bother, Dad," I interrupted, stepping closer. "Judge Harrison signed the arrest warrant two hours ago after reviewing the encrypted server logs we seized from Preston’s private estate in the Hamptons. Apex Capital is currently being raided by forty federal agents as we speak."
Preston’s eyes went wide. "How... how did you get those server logs?"
"You dropped a hundred-dollar bill at my feet five minutes ago," I said, glancing at the crumpled bill lying on the floor between us. "You boasted that your morning income beats my monthly salary. But that money didn't come from smart trades, Preston. It came from the fraud you committed on defense supply contracts. You skimmed millions off armor plating meant for transport vehicles, replacing it with sub-standard steel."
The room collective gasped. Skimming corporate money was one thing in these elite social circles, but compromising the safety of active-duty soldiers crossed a line even these high-society guests couldn't swallow. Whispers erupted across the ballroom like wildfire.
"You put lives at risk for a fourth yacht," I continued, my voice tight with a deep, quiet fury. "I didn't come here tonight to celebrate your engagement, Preston. I came to make sure you were in a public place where you couldn't run when the indictment dropped."
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Agent Miller grabbed Preston’s wrists and snapped the steel cuffs around his wrists. The metallic clack echoed clearly off the high walls. Preston didn't look like a smooth billionaire anymore. He looked small, pale, and terrified.
"Take him out," Miller ordered.
