Chapter 20 - Under Oath and Out of Time
Vanessa’s scream was animalistic. She lunged forward, attempting to shove past Ryan, but he grabbed her wrists, twisting the parchment out of her grip.
Downstairs, the heavy boots of four state troopers echoed across the foyer.
"Drop the weapon! Hands in the air!"
Flashlights flooded the study, pinning Vanessa against the broken mahogany desk. She fought, spitting and cursing, until the cold steel handcuffs clicked around her slender wrists. As they dragged her toward the door, she locked eyes with Ryan, her face twisted in pure, unadulterated hatred.
"You think this is over?" she hissed. "I'm not the only one who knows what Arthur did in Switzerland! You haven't seen the accounts, Ryan! You don't know who owns Vance Capital!"
Forty-eight hours later, the grand jury room in lower Manhattan was dead silent.
Vanessa sat at the defense table, wearing a drab orange detention jumpsuit. Stripped of her couture gowns, her extensions, and her jewelry, she looked frail, small, and defeated.
Across the room sat Donald Pierce, Margaret Vance, and the Assistant United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York.
"Let the record show," the prosecutor stated, "that defendant Vanessa Laurent is entering a plea of guilty to counts one through four: grand larceny in the first degree, corporate espionage, falsification of estate records, and felony assault."
Pierce stood up, stepping toward the podium. "Before the court accepts the plea, the Vance Family Trust requests the submission of the forensic genetic testing conducted yesterday under court supervision."
Pierce laid a certified document on the judge’s bench.
"The DNA profile of the defendant shares zero genetic markers with the late Arthur Vance. She is the biological daughter of Walter Laurent and Elena Laurent. The defendant's claim of inheritance was a calculated, fraudulent pretense utilized to extort the Vance estate."
Vanessa didn't look up. Her head hung low, her tangled hair shielding her face.
The judge banged the gavel. "Bail is denied. Sentencing is set for the fifteenth of next month. Remand the defendant."
As the marshals led her through the side door, Margaret rose from her seat. She didn't gloat. She didn't look at Vanessa with triumph. She simply smoothed the skirt of her bespoke navy suit, picked up her leather gloves, and walked out of the courtroom with the cold, immovable posture of a woman who had defended her walls and won.
Outside the courthouse, the midday sun reflected off the glass towers of Wall Street. Ryan walked beside his mother, the cool autumn air filling his lungs.
"It’s over," Ryan said, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders that had crushed him for months. "She’s going away for a decade. The firm is secure."
Margaret stopped at the bottom of the granite steps. She looked at Ryan, her expression unreadable, her eyes shadowed with a worry that had not left her face since the wedding.
"The firm is secure from Vanessa, Ryan," Margaret said quietly. "But she said something in that study before the police took her. Something about Switzerland."
"She was bluffing, Mom. She was losing her mind."
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"Arthur visited Zurich four times in the year before he died," Margaret whispered. "He never told me why. And this morning, his personal banker contacted Donald."
***
