Chapter 6 - THE GLASS FORTRESS SHATTERS
The three hundred high-society guests stood up from their chairs in a state of suspended, paralyzed shock as the federal marshals flooded the stage.
Richard tried to lunge toward the service exit behind the grand ice sculpture, his face contorted into a monstrous, angry snarl of panic.
But two heavily built marshals tackled him to the floor, pinning his frame against the white silk tablecloth and snapping the steel handcuffs around his wrists.
"This is an absolute outrage!" Richard screamed, his voice cracking as his expensive suit jacket was stained with spilled champagne.
"We have the legal right to these assets!"
"The only place you have a right to is a federal penitentiary, Richard," Marcus Bennett said, stepping onto the platform and displaying his gold shield.
He plugged the secure digital drive from Preston’s pocket into the ballroom's main media console, his eyes locked onto Victoria's trembling hands.
The massive, sixty-foot projector screens behind the podium instantly illuminated, displaying a high-definition image that made the entire room let out a collective gasp of horror.
The screens displayed the photograph of the master bedroom from three nights ago.
The three hundred investors watched in breathless silence as the image of the nanny, Sarah, tied to the headboard with the twins bound to her chest, filled the screens.
Beside the photograph, the forensic toxicology reports of Preston's daily coffee were highlighted in bright red indicators, proving the systematic administration of the amnesiac sedatives.
"My God," the board chairman whispered, standing up from his table in deep, professional disgust.
"This... this is monstrous."
"They were poisoning the father and holding the infant twins as physical hostages to force the asset transfer."
Victoria stood in the center of the stage, her hands shaking violently as the female marshals secured her arms behind her back, her pearls clinking uselessly.
"The house you built was paid for with my father's legacy, Victoria," Preston said, looking her directly in the eyes with a cold, absolute strength.
"And by tomorrow morning, your name will be permanently erased from this city's registries."
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The heavy metallic click of the restraints closing around Victoria’s wrists was the most satisfying sound Preston had ever heard.
The golden queen of the Winchester-Vance dynasty was reduced to a pale, shivering felon, her family's empire of lies permanently dismantled.
