Chapter 6 - The Federal Knock
The heavy double doors of the Grand Apex Boardroom swung wide.
Instead of corporate assistants or legal aides, four tall figures in dark charcoal suits entered the room. Hanging from their breast pockets were the gold, burnished badges of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, flanked by two officers from the Securities and Exchange Commission's Division of Enforcement.
The lead investigator, a sharp-featured woman with steel-gray hair, stepped directly to the center of the mahogany table.
"Grant Vance? Vanessa Hughes?" she announced, her voice carrying the unquestioned authority of the United States Department of Justice. "I am Special Agent Miller, Federal Financial Crimes Division. We have active warrants for your arrest on charges of wire fraud, interstate corporate embezzlement, conspiracy to commit medical kidnapping, and illegal corporate espionage."
Vanessa let out a strangled shriek, instinctively taking a step backward toward the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the two junior agents moved with practiced speed, blocking her path and pinning her against the glass.
"Get your hands off me!" Vanessa screamed, her manicured fingers clawing at the air. "I'm pregnant! You can't touch me! Call Marcus! Call my lawyer!"
"Marcus Sterling was taken into federal custody at his Manhattan penthouse forty minutes ago, Ms. Hughes," Agent Miller replied without a hint of emotion. "He is currently being processed for insider trading and corporate extortion. If I were you, I’d save your breath for the magistrate."
A pair of cold, steel handcuffs clicked shut around Vanessa’s slender wrists. The crimson dress that had symbolized her triumph only an hour ago now looked like an absurd, cheap costume.
Grant, meanwhile, didn't fight. He stood entirely limp as the second agent approached him, his eyes completely glassy, his mind having totally disconnected from reality.
"Grant Vance, place your hands behind your back," the agent ordered.
Grant didn't move. He simply stared at Evelyn.
"Evelyn..." he whimpered, a single line of snot and tears running down his upper lip. "Please. Tell them it's a mistake. You're my wife. We took vows. In sickness and in health... for richer, for poorer..."
"You forfeited those vows the second you laid hands on me in front of these men, Grant," Evelyn said, her voice entirely devoid of pity. "You forfeited them when you signed a contract to have me drugged and institutionalized. You wanted a public execution of my dignity. Instead, you gave the federal government front-row seats to your confession."
The agent grabbed Grant’s wrists, forcing them behind his back. The sharp, metallic click of the handcuffs locking into place echoed through the silent room like the cocking of a rifle.
"No... no, no, no!" Grant suddenly began to thrash, the reality finally breaking through his shock. "I built this! This tower is mine! You can't take me out through the lobby! There are reporters down there! The international press is waiting!"
"Good," Evelyn said softly. "Smile for the cameras, Grant. You always told me you loved publicity."
As the agents began dragging Grant toward the double doors, his eyes swept over the forty-seven executives. Men who had spent years laughing at his jokes, bowing to his authority, and executing his every whim.
Not a single man looked him in the eye.
Uncle Arthur Vance looked straight ahead, his jaw tight, his hands resting on Harold Sterling’s legacy trust files. The senior CFO was already texting the public relations department to draft an emergency press release dissociating the Vance board from its disgraced former CEO.
Grant Vance was dead to the corporate world before he even reached the elevator bank.
"Evelyn!" Grant screamed, his voice trailing down the marble hallway outside as the agents pulled him away. "EVELYN!"
The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut.
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And in that precise, echoing silence, Evelyn grabbed the edge of the conference table, her knees suddenly buckling under an overwhelming, white-hot blaze of agony.
***
