Chapter 17 - The Gallery Eviction
The moment Sterling brought the gavel down, the chamber erupted.
Margaret Vance stood up, her eyes wild, her designer purse clutched against her chest like a breastplate. She tried to push her way toward the VIP exit, but the crowd of reporters and camera operators had formed an impassable wall.
"Get out of my way!" she shrieked, her aristocratic facade completely shattering into hysterical rage. "Do you know who I am? I am Margaret Vance! My husband was an admiral! My brother-in-law is a United States Senator!"
"Not for long, ma'am," a cold, deep voice cut through the noise.
Two uniformed Capitol Police officers, accompanied by two plainclothes FBI special agents in dark suits, stepped through the crowd, blocking her path.
"Margaret Vance?" the lead FBI agent asked, holding up a gold badge in a leather credential case.
Margaret recoiled as if burned. "How dare you touch me! This is political persecution! That woman—that girl sitting down there—she forged those files! Ask my son! Owen will tell you! Owen knows she’s an impostor!"
"Your son is the one who turned over the decryption keys, Mrs. Vance," the agent said calmly.
Margaret stopped dead in her tracks.
The words seemed to hit her with the force of a physical blow. Her mouth hung open, her eyes dilating in sheer, disbelieving horror. "What did you say?"
"Owen Vance provided full sworn testimony and custody of the original physical drives to the United States Attorney’s Office in Alexandria at zero-seven-hundred this morning," the agent stated, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt. "You are under arrest for felony wire fraud, tax evasion, and conspiracy. Turn around and place your hands behind your back."
"No!" Margaret screamed, backing away until she hit the brass railing of the gallery. "No! He wouldn't! He’s my son! I gave him everything! I made him!"
Across the room, the television cameras captured every single micro-second of her degradation.
The woman who had tried to have me thrown out of the Norfolk Navy Gala for being a "nobody" was now being turned around, her expensive houndstooth jacket pulled back, and her manicured wrists locked into cold, unyielding American steel.
I stood up from the witness table, straightening my service dress whites.
As the agents marched Margaret down the center aisle of the hearing room, she passed within two feet of where I stood. Her hair had come loose from its elegant bun; mascara was running down her cheeks in dark, frantic streaks.
She locked eyes with me. There was no arrogance left in her gaze—only the rabid, helpless hatred of a defeated tyrant.
"You destroyed my family," she hissed through clenched teeth, her voice trembling with venom.
I looked at her with the cool, indifferent pity one might reserve for a fallen insect.
"You destroyed yourself, Margaret," I said softly, so only she could hear. "You just used my name to pay the bill."
May you like
The agents led her through the double doors, out into the blinding sea of media flashes, and into the back of a waiting federal transport van.
***
