Chapter 17 - Crashing the Throne
I stepped into the ballroom wearing a floor-length crimson gown. My head was held high, my posture absolute, and behind me walked four federal agents from the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network and two homicide detectives from the Chicago Police Department.
Richard’s smile instantly vanished. His knuckles turned white around the golden pen.
"Mara," Richard said, keeping his voice smooth into the microphone, though a vein on his temple began to throb. "This is a private corporate event. You are out of line."
"I am the majority shareholder of Vance Logistics, Richard," I said, walking down the central aisle as the crowd parted like the Red Sea. "And this contract is fraudulent. Just like the medical records you forged to claim my husband was incompetent."
"Security, remove this woman!" Richard barked into the microphone.
None of the security guards moved. Two uniformed police officers stepped in front of them, displaying federal warrants.
"Your security works for the hotel, Richard," I said, reaching the foot of the stage. "And the board of directors behind you just received an emergency injunction signed by a federal judge thirty minutes ago."
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On the massive digital screen behind Richard, the legal contract suddenly disappeared.
In its place flashed a high-definition video feed: Grant Sterling, sitting in an interrogation room with his legal counsel, delivering a sworn deposition under oath.
