Chapter 3: The Cold Asset Liquidation
The heavy double doors of the foyer were violently pushed open from the outside. Instead of local security guards or private fixers who could be bought off with a bribe, a team of six uniform federal marshals, accompanied by white-collar crime detectives from the New York Police Department, marched directly into the mansion.
"Samantha Hearst," the lead detective announced, flashing a high-level federal warrant directly into her pale face. "You are under arrest for felony domestic assault, aggravated battery with a deadly weapon, extortion, and corporate grand larceny."
"This is absurd!" Samantha screamed hysterically, her designer velvet gown wrinkling as she thrashed against the officers who roughly grabbed her wrists. "My father owns twenty percent of Montgomery Enterprises! You can't arrest me in this house!"
"Your father doesn't own anything anymore, Samantha," Christian said smoothly, walking over to the fireplace and leaning against the mantlepiece. "While I was watching that security feed, my legal team executed an emergency emergency morals clause violation against your family's shares. Because you used your position as an advisor to commit a violent crime on corporate-owned residential property, your father's assets have been legally frozen, and your entire family line has been stripped of their voting rights."
Samantha gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the sheer magnitude of her financial and social ruin crashed into her reality.
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"You think you wanted this house?" Christian sneered coldly. "By the time the markets open on Monday morning, the Hearst name will be entirely bankrupt. Your father’s firm will face a margin call they cannot pay, and every single asset you’ve ever owned will be liquidated to pay for Clara’s medical expenses and a national foundation for domestic abuse survivors."
"You're a monster, Christian!" Samantha shrieked as the heavy steel handcuffs clicked tightly around her wrists, her unearned confidence completely dragged through the dirt. The paparazzi, who had been anonymously tipped off by Christian's team, flashed their bright lights through the grand windows, capturing her tear-stained, ruined face for the morning blogs.
