Chapter 5: Handcuffs and Confession

“You set me up!” Victoria screamed, her manicured fingers clawing at the mahogany table as panic overtook her sanity.

She spun on Julian Vance, pointing an accusing finger into his chest. “It was him! He planned everything! He told me how to forge the signatures! He set up the offshore shell companies! He forced me to do it!”

Julian’s face twisted into venomous rage. “Shut up, you psychotic leech!” Julian snarled, backing away toward the windows. “You were the one who beat the old woman! You were the one who raided her medical safe! I only managed the financial routing! Don’t drag me down with your violence!”

“You promised we’d take fifty million!” Victoria lunged at Julian, tearing at his lapels before Agent Miller and two officers tackled them apart.

“Enough!” Agent Miller commanded, his voice ringing with absolute authority.

Miller pulled a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt and slammed Julian against the glass partition, twisting his arms behind his back.

Click-clack!

“Julian Vance, you are under arrest for federal wire fraud, conspiracy to commit grand larceny, and corporate extortion,” Miller recited coldly.

Julian slumped against the glass, his arrogance entirely shattered. “I’ll cooperate… I’ll testify against her on everything… just don’t put me in maximum security…”

Two more officers moved toward Victoria.

“Don’t touch me!” Victoria shrieked, stumbling backward into the chair. “Edward! Look at me! I’m your wife! We spent five years together! You promised to love me forever in front of God!”

Edward looked down at her with eyes colder than dry ice.

“You were never my wife, Victoria,” Edward replied, his voice devoid of even a shred of pity. “You were a thief who broke into my family’s home and laid hands on my dying mother. I feel nothing for you but disgust.”

Click-clack!

The cold steel cuffs snapped around Victoria’s slender wrists.

The reality of her ruined life crashed down upon her like an avalanche. The high-society galas, the designer jewelry, the penthouses, the stolen millions—all of it vanished, replaced by the grim prospect of twenty-five years in a federal penitentiary.

As the officers marched the two conspirators through the executive lobby, high-society journalists and camera crews—alerted by Counselor Graham—flashed blinding strobes, capturing Victoria’s disheveled, tear-stained face in HD for every morning newspaper in the country.

Down in the tower courtyard, under the pouring rain, Victoria dropped to her knees on the wet pavement, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Edward! Please! Florence! Forgive me! Don’t send me to prison!”

Florence stood beside Edward under a large black umbrella held by Counselor Graham. The dignified matriarch looked down at the woman who had terrorized her.

“The law will give you justice, Victoria,” Florence said with serene finality. “May God have mercy on your soul, for you showed none to mine.”

The police cruiser doors slammed shut.

With sirens wailing, the convoy pulled away into the rainy New York traffic, taking the nightmare away forever.