Chapter 7 - Midnight at the Estate
By Friday night, the investigation had reached its climax.
Federal agents, accompanied by local police and Alexander’s private security detail, descended upon the sprawling Long Island estate that Victoria had purchased with embezzled funds.
Alexander stood on the manicured gravel driveway, watching as federal agents carried boxes of financial ledgers, hard drives, and physical documents out of the grand colonial-style mansion.
Victoria stood on the front porch, flanked by two female U.S. marshals. She wasn't wearing her gold galas dress or her diamonds now. She wore a simple dark trench coat, her hair windswept, her face pale with the bitter realization that her decades of absolute control had finally evaporated into nothingness.
As Alexander walked up the stone steps toward her, she lifted her chin, trying to summon one last shred of aristocratic pride.
“You’re destroying our family name,” she hissed, her voice trembling with venom. “When I’m gone, the press will tear you apart. You think you’ve won?”
“I didn't come here to win, Mother,” Alexander said, stopping a few feet away from her. “I came here to finish it.”
“I gave you everything,” she spat, tears of pure rage finally spilling over her eyelids. “I built this empire so you wouldn't have to scrape for crumbs like those people in the Bronx.”
“You didn't build an empire,” Alexander replied quietly. “You built a prison. And you tried to lock my wife and daughter inside it while you drank champagne under chandeliers.”
He pulled a small, folded piece of paper from his coat pocket and held it out toward her.
“What is that?” she sneered.
“That is a copy of the original letter Lauren wrote to me three years ago—the letter you intercepted and destroyed,” Alexander said. “Arthur recovered the draft from your private study safe tonight.”
Victoria stared at the paper as if it were a snake ready to strike.
“She told me she loved me,” Alexander whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “She told me she wanted to build a family with me, no matter how much money we had, no matter what you thought of her background. She loved me for who I was, not what name was on my birth certificate.”
He slid the paper onto the small outdoor table beside her, right where a decorative vase of withered roses sat.
“The marshals are waiting,” Alexander said, turning his back on her for the final time. “Enjoy your new estate, Mother.”
May you like
As the unmarked federal sedan drove away down the long, tree-lined driveway carrying Victoria toward holding, Alexander looked up at the stars glittering over Long Island.
The air felt lighter. The night felt clean.
