Chapter 8 - ASHES TO ASHESWhile the flashbulbs illuminated the dawn of a brand-new life for Julian, Clara, and Maya inside the grand auditorium, a very different scene was playing out fifty floors above in the penthouse suite of the Vance family estate.
Victoria Vance stood before the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, watching the live broadcast playing on the wall-mounted television screen. Her face was twisted in an ugly, unrecognizable mask of pure venom.
"Turn it off," she hissed, her voice trembling with manic fury. "Turn it off right now!"
A terrified personal assistant rushed across the room and frantically hit the power button on the remote, plunging the room into a heavy, suffocating silence.
The screen went black, but the image of Julian smiling down at the maid—the maid—and her illegitimate brat burned behind Victoria’s eyelids like branding iron.
Ding-dong.
The sharp chime of the penthouse doorbell echoed through the empty apartment.
Victoria spun around, her eyes wide. "That must be father's legal team. They’ve managed to block the indictment, haven't they? They're going to tear Julian and that little whore apart in the courts—"
She sprinted down the hallway and flung the heavy oak door wide open.
It wasn't a defense attorney standing on the welcome mat.
Instead, three federal marshals in dark tactical gear stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway, their expressions carved from stone. In the background, news vans were already pulling up to the curb on the street below, their cameras pointed directly at the penthouse entrance.
"Victoria Vance?" the lead marshal asked, his voice flat and authoritative.
"I—I demand to speak to my father's legal counsel!" Victoria stammered, stepping back in terror. "You can't do this! Do you know who my family is? Do you know how much power—"
"Your father is currently being processed at the Manhattan Federal Detention Center on twenty-four counts of grand larceny, securities fraud, and corporate extortion," the marshal interrupted coldly, stepping past her into the apartment. "And you, Miss Vance, are being placed under arrest as an accessory to corporate conspiracy and witness intimidation."
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The cold steel of handcuffs snapped securely around Victoria’s delicate wrists.
As they dragged her out into the hallway, past the gaping neighbors and the blinding glare of the paparazzi flashbulbs, Victoria let out one final, blood-curdling shriek of absolute defeat—a sound that echoed down the corridor and vanished into the cold New York air, leaving the Vance empire reduced to literal ash.
