Chapter 37 - Amanda's Reckoning
The ballroom dissolved into complete chaos.
Guests scrambled for the exits, pushing past each other in their panic to distance themselves from the Valmont name, only to be stopped in the grand foyer by federal marshals verifying identities and issuing grand jury subpoenas.
Arthur Valmont sank back against the marble mantelpiece, his hand clutching his chest, his eyes glazed with the realization of total, catastrophic ruin. Two federal agents stepped forward, clicked handcuffs around his wrists, and read him his constitutional rights as they dragged him away through his own ballroom.
Amanda stood alone amidst the shattered glass of her champagne flute.
Her designer veneer was completely gone. Her heavy makeup seemed to melt under the glare of the lights, her shoulders shaking with dry, panicked sobs.
When she saw Emily walking toward her, she took two stumbling steps backward until she hit the edge of a mahogany banquet table.
"Emily... please," Amanda whimpered, her voice shrill and desperate. "You have to believe me! I had nothing to do with this! It was Jason! Jason came to my uncle with the Harrington papers! Jason was the one who was obsessed with getting revenge on Brian! He hated Brian! He couldn't stand that Brian was happier than him!"
Emily stopped three feet in front of her. She looked down at Amanda with an expression not of anger, but of utter, crushing pity.
"Do you remember Thanksgiving dinner, Amanda?" Emily asked softly.
Amanda swallowed hard, tears streaking her foundation. "I... I was just joking... we were just teasing—"
"You sat across from me and laughed while your husband called Brian a failure," Emily said, her tone devoid of emotion. "You sneered at our marriage. You looked at my son's baby carrier and made a comment about cheap department-store blankets. You thought wealth was something you could fake with leased sports cars and borrowed jewels."
"I was stupid!" Amanda wailed, dropping her head. "I'll do whatever you want! I'll divorce Jason tomorrow! I'll testify against Arthur! I'll sign whatever papers you put in front of me! Just don't let them take my trust fund! That's all I have left!"
I stepped up beside Emily, looking down at the woman who had spent months poisoning our family.
"Your trust fund was funded with stolen money from my father's hidden accounts, Amanda," I said. "The federal receivership takes effect at midnight. By tomorrow morning, the townhouse in Manhattan, the Porsche, the jewelry, the bank accounts—all of it will be auctioned to pay the restitution funds for the security personnel your uncle tried to murder."
"You can't leave me with nothing!" she screamed, lunging toward my coat, but Miller instantly caught her by the wrist and held her firmly in place. "I have nowhere to go! My family won't take me in! What am I supposed to do?!"
Emily looked at her one last time, her emerald eyes cold and bright.
May you like
"The same thing you expected Brian to do when you tried to destroy his life," Emily whispered. "Find a job. And learn what real work feels like."
As Miller escorted Amanda toward the line of waiting federal transport vans, her shrieks echoed through the marble corridors of the dying manor, fading into the howl of the ocean storm outside.
