Chapter 69 - The Judgment of the Pariahs
Richard froze, his tears drying as cold dread re-entered his eyes. "What?"
"You will not disappear into obscurity with whatever offshore scraps Sloane managed to squirrel away," I continued, my voice steady and merciless. "You, Victoria, and Sloane will be escorted down the ramp in ten minutes. Waiting at the pier are forty federal agents from the Southern District of New York, accompanied by Scotland Yard’s Serious Fraud Office."
Victoria let out a strangled gasp. "Federal agents? You brought the authorities into this? This was supposed to be settled among our families!"
"Our families ceased to exist the moment your son announced our divorce in front of three hundred guests and introduced a mistress as his future wife," I said, turning to face Victoria directly. "You wanted the world to witness my humiliation. It is only fitting that the world witnesses yours. Every tax fraud, every forged signature, every dollar you siphoned through dummy shell companies will be laid bare in a Manhattan courtroom. You will not have private tribunals. You will not have secret deals. You will stand before a public jury, stripped of your monogram, stripped of your estates, and stripped of the illusion that your name ever meant anything without mine."
Sloane Avery began to sob hysterically, burying her face against the iron grating, while Victoria slumped entirely, her aristocratic pride finally shattered beyond repair. Richard remained on his knees, staring blankly ahead, realizing that the gilded cage he had lived in his entire life had just been traded for an iron one.
"Escort them off the ship," Julian ordered.
The Praetorian guards moved efficiently, dragging the three of them toward the catwalks. Richard’s desperate apologies echoed down the corridor, fading into the rhythmic thrum of the vessel’s engines until there was nothing left but silence.
I turned back to the tribunal benches. Lord Sterling and his colleagues sat frozen under the targeting lasers of their own private guard, their centuries of hidden power evaporating with the stroke of a cryptographic key.
May you like
"Leave the vessel," I told the tribunal. "Your offshore residencies have been revoked. Your diplomatic passports have been flagged. By sunrise, you are ordinary citizens subject to the laws of the nations you tried to manipulate."
Without a word, the defeated relics of the Directorate rose and filed silently out the side exits, leaving the Grand Saloon empty, save for three people: Julian, myself, and the man who had vanished thirty years ago.
