Chapter 7 - The Visit From The Federal Prosecutor
At 10:00 a.m., a quiet knock sounded at the heavy double doors of our private penthouse elevator foyer.
My father’s head of security, Victor, escorted United States Federal Prosecutor David Vance into our bright, minimalist living room.
David was my cousin—a brilliant, ruthless federal prosecutor who had spent five years building cases against white-collar criminals in New York.
He carried a thick leather briefcase under his arm, his dark suit crisp and professional as he walked across the white marble floor.
“Good morning, Uncle Jonathan. Good morning, Ava,” David greeted us politely, setting his briefcase onto the glass coffee table.
“I see the morning news is keeping everyone entertained in the financial district.”
“How is the case shaping up against Ryan, David?” my father asked, pouring a cup of fresh coffee for our family attorney and prosecutor.
“It’s airtight,” David answered with a confident smile, popping the metal latches of his briefcase open.
“Between the fraudulent investor reports, the offshore accounts in the Caymans, and the assault charges from last night’s party…”
“Ryan is facing a mandatory minimum of twenty-five years in federal prison without the possibility of parole.”
“And his mother?” I asked quietly, taking a seat on the white velvet sofa across from my cousin.
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“Eleanor is facing conspiracy charges for helping him hide stolen investor funds in her social foundation,” David replied flatly.
“Her trial starts next month, and her assets are completely seized. She’s going to lose everything.”
