Chapter 10 - Richard’s Betrayal and the Stash in the Safe
Across town, inside the Sterling Estate master bedroom, the grand conspiracy was already beginning to cannibalize itself.
Richard Sterling was frantically throwing stacks of bearer bonds, diamond jewelry, and forged passports into a leather duffel bag. His broken jaw throbbed with unbearable agony, but the primal fear of federal prison outweighed any physical pain.
Celeste burst into the room, her eyes wide with manic rage.
“What are you doing?!” Celeste screamed, lunging forward to grab the duffel bag. “Harold Vance is at the university right now securing the child! Why are you packing?!”
Richard shoved Celeste violently onto the king-sized bed. “You idiot! It’s over! Don't you understand?! Dr. Harrison’s nurse called my private line twenty minutes ago! Jonathan got the ledger! He has the audio tapes! He has the original wire transfers!”
Celeste’s face turned into a mask of pure horror. “No... no! We can pay off the judge! We can bribe the district attorney!”
“There is no bribing our way out of this!” Richard screamed, spit flying from his bandaged mouth. “Federal human trafficking! Wire fraud! Grand larceny! Falsifying death certificates! We are looking at fifty years in maximum security, Celeste! I’m leaving on the private jet to Panama in forty minutes. And I’m taking the offshore bonds with me!”
Celeste’s shock instantly transformed into venomous malice. She reached into her vanity drawer and pulled out a small, nickel-plated .38 revolver, pointing it directly at Richard’s chest.
“You aren't taking a single cent of my family’s money, you pathetic coward,” Celeste hissed, her finger tightening on the trigger. “I brought you into this family! I made you wealthy! You don't leave until I say we leave!”
Richard froze, staring down the barrel of the gun. He slowly raised his hands, a sinister, deceitful grin spreading across his bruised face.
“Come on, Celeste... we’re partners. We did this together. Put the gun down, and we split the bonds fifty-fifty.”
Celeste hesitated for a split second.
In that fraction of a moment, Richard lunged forward like a striking viper. He grabbed Celeste’s wrist, twisting the gun upward.
BANG!
The shot blasted into the plaster ceiling, showering them with white dust. Richard delivered a brutal elbow strike to Celeste’s face, knocking her off her feet. She crashed against the heavy mahogany nightstand, the gun clattering across the floor.
Richard scooped up the revolver, shoving it into his waistband, and grabbed the heavy duffel bag of money.
He looked down at Celeste, who was clutching her bleeding nose on the floor, weeping with helpless fury.
“Enjoy the trial, darling,” Richard sneered. “Tell the judge I said hello.”
Richard turned and sprinted down the grand marble staircase, bursting through the front entrance of the estate.
He threw the duffel bag into his sports car, ignited the engine, and slammed the accelerator, tires smoking as he sped down the winding driveway toward the highway.
He thought he was free.
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He thought he had escaped.
He had no idea that sixty seconds ahead, waiting at the base of the mountain road, three armored FBI tactical assault vehicles were already deploying spike strips across the asphalt.
