Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
"FEDERAL AGENTS! NOBODY MOVE!"
A team of six agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation, flanked by four uniformed Beverly Hills Police Department officers, marched down the center aisle. Their badges gleamed under the chandeliers; their faces were grim and professional.
At the front of the squad was Special Agent Marcus Vance—Clara’s estranged paternal uncle, whom Eleanor had banned from the family compound eight years ago after he started asking too many questions about Arthur’s financial management.
Marcus looked at the brawl on the floor with cold, unyielding eyes.
"Eleanor Vance. Chloe Vance. That's enough," Marcus commanded, his voice cutting through their hysterics.
Two officers stepped forward, forcefully pulling Eleanor and Chloe apart. They dragged Eleanor up, forcing her arms behind her back.
The sharp, metallic *click* of steel handcuffs echoed loudly across the quieted room.
"Eleanor Vance," Special Agent Marcus Vance stated, pulling a folded legal document from his tactical vest. "You are under arrest for first-degree murder, conspiracy to commit murder, wire fraud, bank fraud, and the embezzlement of federally protected charitable trust funds. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"Marcus! You fool!" Eleanor thrusted against the officers holding her, her voice raw, screaming like a banshee. "You're Arthur’s brother! You can’t do this to your own blood! Clara is lying! Julian Hayes framed me! Call my lawyers! Call Alan Dershowitz! Call the governor!"
"Your lawyers have already received the federal freeze orders on all eighteen of your domestic and offshore accounts, Eleanor," Marcus replied coldly. "You don't have a nickel left to pay for a public defender."
Another set of handcuffs clicked onto Chloe’s wrists.
"No! Please! I didn't kill anyone! I just gambled! That's not murder!" Chloe wailed as an officer pushed her down the aisle. She looked at Clara, begging with her eyes. "Clara! Tell them! We're sisters! Clara! Help me!"
Clara stood tall next to Julian, her chin held high, her hand firmly intertwined with Julian’s.
She did not look away. She did not flinch. She watched them drag her sister and mother down the aisle—past the floral arrangements, past the horrified socialites, past the ruined rhinestone dress lying discarded on the floor like a pile of trash.
As Eleanor was pushed through the exit doors, she turned back one last time, her eyes burning with pure, unadulterated venom.
"I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU TOO, CLARA!" Eleanor screamed, the desperate, insane truth finally spilling from her lips before the double doors shut behind her.
The heavy doors clicked closed.
The mansion went dead silent once again.
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The dark cloud that had hovered over Clara’s life for twenty-six years had finally, permanently, vanished.
***
