Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Vance
The federal agents didn't waste time with pleasantries. They moved up the stage steps with quiet, practiced efficiency, bypassing the stunned guests who pressed themselves against the walls to get out of the way.
"Eric Marcus Vance?" Detective Vance asked, holding the handcuffs open in his palm.
Marcus looked wildly around the room for an escape route, but the exits were blocked, the crowd was staring at him with undisguised contempt, and his mistress was already backing away toward the service doors.
"You can't do this!" Marcus shrieked, his voice cracking into a desperate, pathetic whine as the heavy steel cuffs snapped around his wrists with a sharp click. "I demand a lawyer! This is a corporate dispute, not a criminal matter!"
"Embezzlement of client trust funds, corporate fraud, and money laundering are federal criminal offenses, Mr. Vance," the lead federal agent replied coldly, spinning Marcus around and guiding him toward the exit.
As Marcus was hauled past the tables of horrified guests, his eyes met mine one last time. There was no anger left in his gaze—only the hollow, shivering terror of a man who had flown too close to the sun and burnt his wings entirely away.
Celeste tried to slip away toward the service exit, but Harrison Cole casually stepped into her path, blocking her exit with a polite, impenetrable smile.
"Where do you think you're going, Ms. Rowan?" Harrison asked smoothly. "The compliance auditors would love a word with you regarding those boutique shell-company wire transfers."
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Celeste froze, her face draining of all color as she realized she was trapped in the very web of greed she had helped weave.
Within ten minutes, the grand ballroom was cleared of the federal agents, the disgraced executives, and the nervous guests. The jazz band had packed up their instruments and slipped out the back door.
