Chapter 4 - THE FILES IN THE VAULT"Objection—er, that is, absolute nonsense!" Richard stammered, his polished composure completely shattered. The silver-haired billionaire looked suddenly ancient, his shoulders slumping under the weight of decades of buried guilt. "The statute of limitations expired twenty years ago! You have no proof! The police files were closed!"
"Police files, yes," I agreed calmly, buttoning my dress back up and smoothing the fabric. "Local police files handled by precincts where your father happened to sit on the board of commissioners. But federal securities fraud, corporate identity theft, and attempted murder resulting in interstate financial enrichment? Those don't expire quite so easily, Richard. Especially when federal investigators have been quietly rebuilding the case for the last fourteen months."
Director Vance stepped forward, walking down the central aisle between the stunned tables of guests. In his hand, he held a thick manila folder stamped with federal seals.
"Linda Harper—formerly Dr. Evelyn Vance, principal founder and chief cryptographer of Aether Systems—walked into our federal field office in Washington D.C. a year and a half ago," Director Vance announced to the entire room. "She brought encrypted backups of the original source code, financial ledger logs showing every dollar funneled into offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands, and a sworn affidavit detailing the night of July 14th."
Vance stopped at the foot of the stage, looking up at Richard Whitmore with a cold, professional stare.
"Richard Whitmore, you are hereby placed under federal investigation for racketeering, wire fraud, grand larceny, and attempted homicide. Federal agents are securing your corporate headquarters, your bank accounts, and your primary residences as we speak."
Ethan staggered backward, colliding with a tier of the wedding cake. The multi-tiered masterpiece wobbled, tilted, and crashed to the floor in a cloud of white frosting and sponge cake.
May you like
"Dad..." Ethan whispered, his eyes wide with horror. "Tell me it's not true. Tell me our entire life... everything we have... isn't built on a lie."
Richard couldn't look his son in the eye. He collapsed heavily into the podium chair, his head in his hands, defeated not by an army or a court order, but by the ghost he thought he had buried thirty years ago.
