Chapter 3 - The Shattered Castle
The front door of our modern estate was made of solid, reinforced oak—a barrier Dominic had installed to keep the world out. But tonight, it served only to trap them inside.
Within ninety seconds of the sirens’ arrival, the heavy front door was opened from the outside. Detective Chloe Park, accompanied by three uniformed officers, stepped into the marble foyer. The sharp click of their tactical boots against the stone floor echoed through the house like a drumbeat of doom.
“Audrey Vance?” Detective Park called out, her voice loud and carrying the absolute authority of the law.
“In the dining room, Detective,” I called back, not taking my eyes off Dominic.
Dominic stood frozen, his hand still half-raised, looking like a caricature of a violent man caught in the act. Natalie had dropped her phone entirely, her face pale as she looked toward the doorway. Victoria was frantically trying to fold the financial documents and stuff them into her designer purse, her movements clumsy and desperate.
Detective Park entered the dining room, her eyes instantly assessing the scene. She looked at the red mark on my cheek, the slight smear of dried blood at the corner of my mouth, and then at Dominic’s aggressive posture.
“Dominic Vance,” Detective Park said, pulling a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from her tactical belt. “You are under arrest for domestic battery, felony assault, and coercion.”
“This is a mistake!” Dominic shrieked, his voice losing all of its deep, commanding resonance, turning into a pathetic, high-pitched whine as two uniformed officers stepped around the table and grabbed his arms. “My wife is hysterical! She set this up! She’s been manipulating the accounts to frame me and my mother!”
“We have the live stream, Mr. Vance,” Detective Park said coldly, forcing his arms behind his back. The sharp, metallic clink of the handcuffs locking into place was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. “We watched you strike your wife on our monitors twenty-five minutes ago. Save your explanations for the magistrate.”
“Audrey! You cold-blooded snake!” Victoria screamed, stepping in front of Natalie as if to shield her daughter from the officers. “You’re going to destroy this family over a few minor financial transactions? We made you! Dominic gave you a social standing you could never have achieved on your own!”
“My social standing was built on my family’s estate, Victoria,” I said, stepping closer to her. “The house you are currently standing in was paid for by my trust. The wine you are drinking was purchased with my money. And as of tomorrow morning, your access to any joint accounts is permanently terminated. You are officially homeless.”
“What about me?” Natalie whimpered, her voice trembling as she looked at her empty wrists, realizing her luxury lifestyle was evaporating in real-time. “I didn't do anything! I just used the card Dominic gave me!”
“You used a corporate card registered under my design firm for personal luxury trips to Aspen and Miami, Natalie,” I said, turning my gaze to her. “That is grand larceny by proxy. My attorney has already filed the civil suit to recover every single penny. You’ll be spending your next vacation in a courtroom.”
As the officers began leading Dominic out of the room, he thrashed against their grip, his eyes burning with a desperate, wild hatred. “Audrey! You can’t do this to me! I built your business! The clients only work with me! If you put me in jail, Crestwood Design Group will go bankrupt by Friday!”
“The clients worked with you because they believed you represented my family’s legacy, Dominic,” I said, walking to the large bay window and watching the red and blue flashing lights paint the driveway. “But tomorrow, they will learn the truth. You are nothing but a thief who forgot his place.”
The officers dragged him out into the cold night air. Victoria and Natalie were escorted out closely behind, their loud, indignant protests fading into the quiet of the neighborhood as the doors of the police cruisers slammed shut.
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I stood alone in the empty dining room under the brilliant Murano chandelier. The silence that followed was different from the silence of fear. It was the quiet, clean silence of a house that had just been cleared of pests. I walked over to the mahogany table, picked up the silver platter, and carried it back into the kitchen.
The feast was over. Now, it was time to rebuild the foundation.
