Chapter 11
The doors crashed open wide, and a squad of federal agents and local police poured into the grand ballroom. Their heavy combat boots slammed against the marble floor, completely drowning out the lingering wail of the sirens outside. Tactical vests bearing federal insignias caught the flashing red and blue light, while drawn firearms swept the room with tactical precision.
"Freeze! Federal agents! Drop the weapon!" a commanding voice shouted, echoing off the high vaulted ceilings.
Isabella stood paralyzed, the serrated steak knife trembling in her sweaty grip. Her eyes darted from the barrels of the police rifles back to Elias, and finally to Caroline. The sheer weight of the inevitable prison sentence crashed down upon her shoulders. Her manic resolve fractured completely.
"Isabella Vance, drop the knife immediately or you will be met with lethal force," the lead agent commanded, stepping forward, his weapon locked on her chest.
With a choked, pathetic sob, Isabella’s fingers loosened. The heavy silver knife clattered loudly against the pristine marble floor. She dropped to her knees right beside it, her expensive white silk wedding dress pooling around her in the dirt and spilled champagne.
"Get her on the ground! Cuff her!" the lead agent barked.
Two officers rushed forward, forcing Isabella face-down onto the floor. Cold steel cuffs ratcheted tightly around her wrists. As they hauled her up, her carefully curated updo came completely undone, her blonde hair falling in wild, disheveled strands across her tear-streaked face.
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"Dad! Dad, help me! Don't let them take me!" Isabella shrieked as she was dragged past the head table.
Richard Vance didn't look up. He remained on his knees, his hands covering his face as silent, broken sobs shook his frame. He watched through blurred eyes as his favorite daughter—the one he had trusted, the one he had enabled—was hauled out past the ruined white roses into the flashing lights of the night.
