Chapter 10 - The Master Plan Collapses
The grand front doors of the estate burst open.
A dozen heavily armed tactical officers from the State Prosecutor’s Special Operations Division flooded into the foyer, assault rifles held at low ready, followed by State Prosecutor David Harrison and two uniformed female officers.
“Sabina Vance!” Prosecutor Harrison announced loudly, unfolding an official document. “By order of the Superior Court, you are under arrest for grand larceny, criminal conspiracy, filing a false police report, and conspiracy to commit aggravated homicide!”
Sabina let out a wild, animalistic shriek of rage. She spun around, attempting to bolt toward the rear garden exit, but two tactical officers moved with lightning speed, pinning her against the marble wall and forcing her arms behind her back.
CLICK. CLACK.
The steel handcuffs snapped tightly around her manicured wrists.
“Get your filthy hands off me!” Sabina screamed, thrashing wildly against the officers. “Do you know who my family is?! Chadworth, tell them to let me go! You have no proof! Julian will destroy you in court! He controls the family trust!”
Chadworth stepped forward, pulling his smartphone from his pocket. He hit speakerphone.
“Julian?” Chadworth said calmly.
A voice crackled over the line, accompanied by the background noise of police sirens and shouting officers: “Chadworth! Please, man, let’s talk about this! I was forced into this by Sabina! She threatened me! I have all the financial records, I’ll testify against her, just call off Harrison’s team—!”
The sound of Julian Croft being forced to the floor and cuffed in his high-rise Manhattan office echoed clearly through the foyer before the line went dead.
Sabina’s face drained of every ounce of defiance. Her knees buckled, and she slumped against the arresting officers, hyperventilating as the full reality of her total destruction crashed down upon her.
“You’re going to spend the rest of your life in a state penitentiary, Sabina,” Chadworth whispered, leaning down until his eyes met hers. “And every single penny of your family’s seized assets will be transferred into a foundation established in memory of Eleanor Prescott and Clara Vance.”
The officers hauled the sobbing, hysterical woman out into the pouring rain, her designer shoes dragging uselessly against the stone driveway as she was pushed into the back of a waiting police transport.
Silence descended upon the grand foyer.
Chadworth turned around.
Rosamund stood near the archway of the dining room, looking exhausted, bruised in spirit, but standing tall.
May you like
Chadworth walked slowly toward her. When he reached her, the billionaire—a man who commanded boardrooms and negotiated with heads of state—did something nobody in his world had ever seen him do.
Chadworth Prescott dropped to his knees before his housekeeper and bowed his head in profound, absolute gratitude.
