Chapter 3 - Midnight in South Beach
At 1:15 a.m. on New Year’s Day, four luxury police cruisers from the Miami-Dade Police Department pulled up outside the entrance of The Setai, one of the most expensive oceanfront resorts in South Beach.
Inside Penthouse 8B, Eleanor was sipping vintage champagne, looking out over the sparkling night sky as fireworks exploded over the Atlantic Ocean. Chloe and Mark were dancing near the private plunge pool, while Chloe’s brother-in-law Ethan was filming a livestream for his social media followers, boasting about their "spontaneous five-star holiday."
“To David’s hard work!” Eleanor toasted, raising her crystal flute with a wide, manicured smile. “May he stay in Germany for another month so we can extend to St. Barts!”
“To David’s money!” Mark laughed, taking a deep gulp of five-hundred-dollar cognac that had been charged to my black credit card three hours prior.
Suddenly, the electronic keycard lock on the penthouse front door buzzed.
The door didn't just open—it crashed inward as four armed Miami-Dade officers, flanked by two detectives and hotel security, stepped into the marble foyer.
“Eleanor Vance? Chloe Vance? Mark Sterling?” the lead detective called out, his voice cutting through the loud party music.
Eleanor set her champagne glass down, her face flushing with immediate outrage. “Excuse me! What is the meaning of this intrusion? Do you know how much this suite costs per night? I am going to have the manager fired!”
“Mrs. Vance, keep your hands where we can see them,” the detective replied calmly, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his tactical vest. “You, your daughter, and your son-in-law are under arrest.”
Chloe dropped her cocktail glass; it shattered against the designer tiles. “Under arrest? For what?! This is a mistake! My brother is a senior executive in New York—he’s paying for everything!”
“Your brother is the one who filed the criminal charges fifteen minutes ago,” the detective snapped, stepping forward and roughly grabbing Chloe’s wrists behind her back. CLICK. CLICK.
“What?!” Eleanor shrieked, her face turning pale as paper. “David? David is in Stuttgart! He doesn't know anything!”
“Mr. David Vance is currently at Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan with NYPD detectives,” the officer informed them ruthlessly. “You are being charged with Grand Larceny, Criminal Inaction, Extortion, Felony Child Endangerment, and Attempted Manslaughter.”
Mark tried to run toward the balcony door, but two officers tackled him to the floor, pinning his face against the Persian rug and snapping handcuffs around his wrists.
May you like
“Ethan!” Chloe screamed, looking at her brother-in-law who was standing frozen in horror, still holding his phone. “Call our lawyer! Call David! Tell him Mom is crying!”
“Don't bother calling Mr. Vance,” the detective warned, dragging Eleanor toward the door as her mink coat slipped off her shoulders into the spilled alcohol. “All his accounts have been frozen. Hotel management has already canceled your reservation, and your luggage is being seized as evidence. You’re spending New Year’s in a Miami-Dade holding cell.”
