Chapter 3: The Festive Arrest
"Julian Vance, Evelyn Vance, step away from the table and place your hands where we can see them," Detective Miller announced, flashing his gold shield directly into the couple’s pale faces.
"This is an invasion of privacy! This is our home!" Evelyn screamed hysterically, her designer silk cocktail dress wrinkling as she thrashed against the officer who moved in behind her. "My father is a senior partner at Manhattan Capital Legal! We will have your badges for this!"
"Your father’s firm was notified ten minutes ago, ma'am, and they’ve already officially recused themselves from your defense to protect their own corporate liability," the detective replied coldly, pulling out a pair of heavy, cold steel handcuffs. "We have the full audio log of the assault, and we have the physical evidence of the bruises on Ms. Sophia’s arms."
Julian stood completely paralyzed, his breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as the marshals roughly turned him around. The heavy steel cuffs clicked tightly behind his back, cutting off the circulation to his expensive gold watch. He looked at the woman he had treated like an item of property, the woman he had mocked as "frail and senile," and finally realized she had been the one holding the strings to his freedom all along.
Sophia stood up slowly from the table, walking over to the mantelpiece where a row of Christmas stockings hung. She pulled a thick, notarized manila folder from behind the holiday garland, tossing it onto the table right in front of the detectives.
"Per the emergency lifestyle and morality clauses of the family trust fund," Sophia said, her voice dripping with ice, "any heir convicted of a violent felony or criminal endangerment against a primary trustee is legally and permanently rendered an 'unworthy beneficiary.' You aren't just going to jail tonight, Julian. You have both been completely, unconditionally disinherited."
May you like
"You trapped us!" Julian hissed, his voice cracking with pure, desperate rage as he was led out past the broken pieces of the dinner table.
The elite neighbors, who were out walking down the snow-draped Hamptons street to admire the holiday lights, watched in absolute, jaw-dropped awe as Manhattan’s favorite young power couple was marched down the driveway in total disgrace, their tear-stained faces illuminated by the red and blue emergency strobes bouncing off the winter snow.
