Chapter 6 - The Ultimate AuditWith the flash drive in Julian’s possession, the technical team at Apex Holdings worked through the night.
By Tuesday morning, the digital dragnet was complete. Every single penny Spencer had siphoned from my personal accounts, every fake invoice he had submitted for his construction firm, and every shell company he had created to hide his illicit gains had been mapped out in meticulous detail.
Mr. Miller placed a thick, bound dossier on my desk.
“The federal prosecutor’s office has reviewed the data packet, Madam Chairwoman,” Mr. Miller reported, his expression entirely professional. “A warrant for Spencer Sterling’s arrest has been issued on charges of grand larceny, corporate fraud, and interstate financial laundering. Federal marshals are en route to the property right now.”
“Very well,” I said, standing up and smoothing out my blazer. “Let’s go outside and watch the final curtain call.”
Julian and I walked down the grand marble staircase, through the foyer, and out the front doors.
The morning sun beat down on the manicured lawns of Coral Gables. Outside the wrought-iron gates, a small crowd of local reporters and paparazzi had gathered, tipped off by the sudden corporate shakeup.
And right there in the middle of the sidewalk sat Spencer, looking hollowed out, unshaven, and utterly defeated.
When he saw me walk out of the front doors followed by Julian and Mr. Miller, his face lit up with a desperate, pathetic hope. He scrambled to his feet and ran up to the bars of the gate, shaking them frantically.
“Laura! Laura, please! Talk to me!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “I was stupid! I was weak! But we’re husband and wife! You can call off the lawyers! You can drop the charges!”
I stopped a few feet from the gate, looking at him the way a scientist might examine a particularly stubborn parasite under a microscope.
“Spencer,” I said, my voice carrying clearly over the cameras clicking from the press corps. “You forgot the golden rule of business and life: never bite the hand that feeds you, and never underestimate the person who built your entire world from the ground up.”
Before Spencer could reply, two black SUVs bearing federal law enforcement insignia pulled up alongside the curb. Four federal agents stepped out, walking directly toward Spencer with heavy, purposeful strides.
“Spencer Sterling?” the lead agent asked, holding out an official document.
Spencer froze, staring at the gleaming silver handcuffs in the agent's hand. “No—no, wait, there’s been a mistake! My wife—my wife will tell you—!”
“Your ex-wife,” I corrected gently, stepping closer to the gate. “And she has nothing more to say to you.”
The agents grabbed Spencer by the arms. He thrashed and screamed as they forced his wrists behind his back, clicking the cuffs into place with a sharp, metallic snap. As they dragged him toward the federal vehicle, the cameras flashed furiously, capturing every agonizing second of his public disgrace.
Evelyn, who had apparently heard about the arrest and rushed to the scene in a desperate attempt to salvage her own dignity, pushed her way through the press corps, screeching at the top of her lungs.
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“You ruined my family! You monstruous bitch! You'll pay for this!” she shrieked, lunging toward the gate before a local police officer gently but firmly pushed her back behind the police line.
I turned my back on them, leaving the screaming mother and the handcuffed son to the mercy of the flashbulbs and the federal courts.
