Chapter 25 - The Public Stripping
Security guards rushed forward, but before they could lay a finger on Ethan, two dozen uniformed officers from the Illinois State Police and agents wearing Federal Financial Crimes windbreakers filed through the side exits, effectively sealing the ballroom.
"Nobody moves," an agent at the perimeter announced into a bullhorn. "This is an active federal service operation."
Ethan stopped at the base of the stage, looking up at the woman who had terrorized his life, abused his wife, and tried to cremate his daughter alive.
"You called my daughter trash at Christmas dinner," Ethan said, his voice terrifyingly calm, carrying over the stunned silence of the room. "You told my wife she was a parasite who would never own a single brick of Whispering Pines."
Victoria’s chest heaved. The initial shock began to warp into a desperate, feral rage. She leaned into the microphone, her voice shrieking through the speakers.
"Arthur! Call the police! These people are impostors! They are trespassers! Ethan, you ungrateful wretch, I built you! Everything you have is mine!"
"Nothing was ever yours, Victoria," Richard said, stepping forward onto the first stair of the dais.
For the first time in forty years, Richard didn't lower his head. He looked his wife dead in the eye, his voice ringing with pure, unadulterated contempt.
"Show the screen," Ethan commanded Marcus, who was standing beside the audio-visual booth at the back.
Instantly, the massive projector screens behind the podium—originally set up to display the Medina Holdings corporate logo and restructuring charts—flickered and cut to a live document feed.
Documents appeared in rapid, devastating succession:
Wire transfers originating from Victoria’s private shell accounts in Zurich, paying out two hundred thousand dollars to an offshore industrial demolition contractor forty-eight hours before the gas leak.
Audio files began playing through the high-end ballroom speakers. Victoria’s unmistakable voice, crisp and cold as dry ice, filled the hall:
*"...ensure the vents reverse at 2:00 AM sharp. If Richard is inside with them, so much the better. The insurance policy on the property has a triple-indemnity rider for catastrophic structural fire. Just make sure the girl doesn't leave the premises..."*
Glares of pure horror rippled across the faces of the board members. Reporters were frantically typing on their laptops, live-streaming the entire confession to millions of viewers across the country.
Victoria stumbled backward, knocking over the heavy leather executive chair behind her.
"Turn it off!" she screamed, her eyes bulging with madness. "Arthur! Kill the feed! Kill the feed right now!"
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Arthur Vance didn't move. He had already stepped three paces away from her, his hands raised in the air toward the approaching federal agents, disassociating himself from her sinking ship in real time.
***
