Chapter 132 - The Fall of the Sterling-Vance Empire
Captain Dupont stepped forward to the marble clerk's bench, unsealing the first red wax-stamped diplomatic pouch.
"For the record of this tribunal," Captain Dupont announced in crisp, formal French, "the French Republic hereby submits the unsealed military birth registrations for Noah Arthur de Saint-Germain and Sophie Hélène de Saint-Germain, born October 14, 2016, at the Abbey of St. Jude in Normandy."
He laid the original, yellowed parchment ledger from Sister Beatrice directly in front of the judge.
"Furthermore," Dupont continued, "the French Supreme Court of Cassation entered an unappealable judgment of full adoption in favor of Victoria Vance and Ethan Vance seven years ago, pursuant to the explicit testamentary directive of Commandant Hélène de Saint-Germain."
Dominic’s lead attorney, Richard Sterling, leaped to his feet, sweat beading across his brow. "Your Honor! Those are foreign documents! They have not been authenticated under the Hague Apostille Convention—"
"Here is the Hague authentication, Counselor," Marcus Vance interrupted, tossing a four-inch thick binder stamped with the blue seal of the Netherlands onto the defense table with a resounding thud.
"And here," Marcus added, sliding an iPad directly toward the bench, "is the financial transfer record showing four million Swiss francs wired from Count Dominic’s Cayman shell company into your private foundation account in Liechtenstein seventy-two hours ago, Judge Laurent."
The entire courtroom erupted into a chaotic frenzy of gasps and frantic whispers.
Judge Laurent’s face drained of every drop of blood. He stared at the screen displaying his private account number, his hands trembling so violently he knocked his gold pen off the blotter.
"This... this is an outrage..." Laurent stammered, his judicial authority completely disintegrating. "This is unauthorized surveillance—"
The side doors of the judicial bench clicked open.
Stepping into the courtroom, accompanied by four armed federal marshals from the Swiss Federal Department of Justice, was Chief Federal Prosecutor Beatrix von Berg.
"Judge Laurent," Prosecutor von Berg declared, her voice cold and merciless. "You are relieved of your duties immediately. The Federal Judicial Council has suspended your bench privileges pending formal indictment for judicial bribery, money laundering, and treason."
Two federal marshals stepped up to the bench, removing Judge Laurent’s robe and escorting the pale, trembling jurist out through the private chambers.
Dominic stood alone at the petitioner’s table.
His four high-priced attorneys had already gathered their briefcases, stepping three paces away from their client, completely abandoning him to the wolves.
Dominic looked across the well of the courtroom at me, then at Ethan, and finally at the two ten-year-old children who stared back at him with pure, unyielding contempt.
"You think you’ve won, Victoria?" Dominic hissed, his aristocratic facade shattering into a rabid, cornered snarl. "You think a few French papers protect you? I control sixty percent of the energy transit through Basel! I own the logistics corridors! I will burn your shipping lines from Rotterdam to Singapore!"
"You don't control anything, Dominic," I said softly, rising from my chair.
I picked up my phone, pressed a single button, and projected a live financial feed onto the courtroom’s primary projection monitor.
Across the screen, the share price of Sterling-Vance Global Holdings was in freefall.
A red ticker scrolled across the bottom: SWISS FEDERAL BANKING COMMISSION FREEZES ALL STERLING-VANCE ACCOUNTS FOLLOWING UNSEALED ICC INDICTMENTS. INTERPOL ISSUES RED NOTICE FOR COUNT DOMINIC STERLING.
"The Basel vaults were permanently sealed thirty minutes ago, Dominic," I whispered, every word landing like an anvil. "You don't have an empire anymore. You don't have an army. You are just a bankrupt predator standing in an empty room."
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Prosecutor von Berg stepped forward, holding a set of heavy steel handcuffs.
"Count Dominic Sterling-Vance," the prosecutor recited with clinical precision. "You are under arrest for international child trafficking, corporate fraud, and the attempted murder of Dr. Jean-Paul Moreau. Place your hands behind your back."
