Chapter 5 - The Fall of the House of Vance
The front doors didn't just open; they were pushed wide by federal marshals in tactical gear.
Detective Miller of the state homicide division stepped into the foyer, flanked by two officers holding thick legal folders and shiny steel handcuffs.
Chloe stumbled backward, colliding heavily with a side console table, sending a crystal vase crashing to the floor. "V-Victor! Victor isn't here! You can't just—"
"Chloe Sterling?" Detective Miller asked, his voice echoing authoritatively through the grand hallway.
"No! I want my lawyer!" she shrieked, panic turning her voice into a high-pitched squeal.
"Chloe Sterling, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, obstruction of justice, and fraud," the detective recited smoothly, stepping forward as the officers moved in to snap cuffs around her wrists. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
As Chloe was dragged screaming and kicking toward the front doors—her white silk dress rustling frantically against the marble floor—another set of cruisers arrived at the back perimeter.
At that exact moment, Victor was stepping out of his corporate limousine at the front gates, having rushed back from downtown after receiving frantic calls from his terrified office assistants.
He didn't even make it past the fountain.
Three officers intercepted him mid-stride, pinning his arms behind his back before he could utter a single syllable of protest.
"What is the meaning of this?! Do you know who I am?!" Victor roared, thrashing wildly as federal agents pressed his face against the side of his own luxury vehicle. "I’m Victor Vance! I’m a pillar of this community! Call my lawyer immediately!"
Detective Miller walked out of the front doors of the mansion, holding a warrant signed by the state attorney general. He stopped a few feet in front of Victor, holding the document out so Victor could read the bold letters at the top.
WARRANT FOR ARREST: FIRST-DEGREE MURDER & FRAUD.
Victor stopped thrashing. His eyes bulged in absolute, primal terror as he stared at the paper.
"No," Victor choked out, his voice suddenly sounding hollow and small. "No, that's impossible... the police report... the fire marshal said it was an accident..."
"The fire marshal didn't have a federal cyber-forensics team analyzing the master control logs," Detective Miller said coldly. "And more importantly, Mr. Vance... they didn't have the audio recording of you and Ms. Sterling discussing the timeline of the murders before you disabled the carbon monoxide detectors."
Victor’s knees buckled. If the officers hadn't been holding him up by his arms, he would have collapsed onto the gravel driveway.
"Elena..." Victor whispered, his eyes frantically searching the front steps of the mansion where I stood watching him from the landing. "Elena, please! Tell them it's a mistake! We're husband and wife! We can work this out!"
I walked down the steps slowly, my heels clicking rhythmically against the stone. I stopped at the edge of the driveway, looking down at the man who had murdered my children, kissed his mistress over their coffins, and threatened to kill me.
"You told me at the funeral, Victor," I said quietly, my voice carrying clearly across the silent courtyard. "Say one more word... and you'll end up beside them."
Victor stared at me, the terrifying realization washing over him that he had completely underestimated the woman he thought he owned.
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"Take him away," I commanded softly.
The officers shoved Victor into the back of the cruiser, slamming the heavy door shut. The red and blue emergency lights flashed wildly against the glass facade of the mansion, painting the walls in shades of crimson and warning blue.
