CHAPTER 6: THE RAIN AT THE MANOR
While the federal financial execution played out across digital ledgers, a torrential New England downpour lashed against the wrought-iron gates of the Carter family estate in Back Bay.
Helena Carter was sitting in her sunroom sipping imported Earl Grey tea when her private platinum American Express card was abruptly declined for a routine home delivery fee.
Frowning in irritation, she picked up her landline to call the VIP concierge desk, only to be greeted by an automated fraud-prevention recording stating her account was under federal review.
Before she could process the bizarre notification, heavy tires crunched loudly across the crushed-stone driveway outside the grand portico.
Three unmarked federal enforcement vehicles and two black-and-white FBI cruisers blocked the main entrance, their emergency lights flashing frantically through the heavy rain.
Heavy combat boots pounded against the wooden porch, followed by a series of heavy, authoritative knocks that rattled the leaded glass of the double front doors.
Helena stood up regally, smoothing the fabric of her silk blouse, and marched into the foyer to demand an explanation from whoever dared disturb her morning peace.
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She swung the mahogany door wide open, expecting local tradesmen or postal errors, only to find three armed federal agents standing under the dripping overhang.
"Helena Carter? We have federal warrants for your arrest on multiple counts of wire fraud, interstate identity theft, and corporate asset embezzlement," the lead special agent announced coldly.
