CHAPTER 7
Six months later, the bright summer sun illuminated the red-brick facade of the Moakley Federal Courthouse in downtown Boston.
I sat in the front row of Courtroom 4, wearing an immaculate navy blue suit, flanked by Arthur Vance and my legal team.
Across the room at the defense table, Julian sat in a dark brown prison jumpsuit, his hair long and unkempt, his face thin and worn after half a year in federal custody awaiting trial.
Beside him sat Sienna, wearing matching prison attire, her eyes fixed on the floor, refusing to look at Julian or the gallery.
Eleanor Vance sat three rows back, stripped of her expensive jewelry and luxury clothes, watching the final collapse of her family's social empire.
"The court is now in session," Judge Harold Hayes declared, his stern voice commanding absolute silence throughout the packed courtroom. "We are here for the sentencing of Julian Vance and Sienna Miller regarding federal grand jury indictments for corporate fraud and tax evasion."
The lead prosecutor stood up, presenting the comprehensive financial evidence that my forensic team and I had compiled over those grueling six months.
"Your Honor," the prosecutor stated firmly, "the defendants operated a sophisticated network of fraudulent shell companies designed to steal millions from investors and avoid lawful tax obligations."
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Judge Hayes reviewed the thick files, his expression growing colder with every page he turned.
"Mr. Vance," Judge Hayes said, looking down over his reading glasses at my ex-husband. "You used your family's prominent reputation to deceive financial institutions, and when your wife discovered your crimes, you attempted to rob her of her newborn children to cover your tracks."
