Chapter 5 - THE BREAK-IN AT STERLING MANORAt 11:15 PM, a torrential downpour slammed into Long Island.
Michael stood in the shadows of the estate's heavy oak trees, drenched to the bone, wearing a dark hoodie. His heart hammered in his chest like a trapped bird. In his head, he was playing out his grand redemption story: steal the drive, betray Cassandra, hand the evidence to his father, and regain his life of luxury.
He sneaked toward the side glass doors of the library. Using a glass-cutter he had bought at a hardware store an hour earlier, he sliced a circle near the lock, reached in, and popped the deadbolt.
The door swung open with a soft squeak.
Michael slipped inside, wiping his wet hands on his jeans. The house was pitch-black and dead quiet. He crept down the long hallway toward Richard Sterling’s private office.
He didn't know that every room in the Sterling manor had been fitted with hidden motion-sensor cameras connected directly to Richard’s private security firm.
Michael reached the heavy mahogany door of the study, pushed it open, and slipped inside. He rushed to the painting of the Sterling family crest on the wall, swung it open, and revealed the wall safe.
"1-9-8-4," Michael whispered to himself, punching in the digits.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
CLICK.
The safe door swung open. Michael gasped in triumph, reaching his hand inside to grab the black leather binder and hard drives.
Suddenly, the floodlights blinded him.
CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!
Blinding white light filled the room from every corner.
"DON'T MOVE! KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"
Heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Michael spun around, shielding his eyes, his heart jumping into his throat. Four armed police officers burst through the door with their pistols drawn, red laser dots painting Michael’s chest.
Behind the officers walked Richard Sterling, wearing a silk robe, holding a golf club, accompanied by Cassandra.
Cassandra gasped, covering her mouth in absolute horror. "Michael?!"
"Michael Whitaker," Captain Miller’s voice echoed through the room. "You are under arrest for Aggravated Burglary, Breaking and Entering, and Attempted Theft."
"No! Wait!" Michael shrieked, dropping the binder as he fell to his knees, throwing his hands up in the air. "Dad told me to do this! My father told me to come here! He promised he would drop the fraud charges!"
Richard Sterling stepped forward, looking down at his son-in-law with pure disgust. "Your father didn't tell you to do anything, you idiot. Your father called me two hours ago and warned me that a desperate criminal was coming to rob my home."
Michael’s brain went completely numb. The walls felt like they were closing in. "What... what?"
"Robert set you up," Richard sneered, spitting on the carpet near Michael’s knees. "He wanted you caught red-handed committing a felony on video. And you were stupid enough to walk right into his trap."
Michael looked at Cassandra, his voice breaking into a pathetic whine. "Cassandra... baby, please tell them! Tell them we're married! Tell them I have a right to be here!"
Cassandra looked at him with icy detachment. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and tossed it onto the floor in front of him.
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"I filed for an immediate annulment an hour ago, Michael," she said coldly. "On the grounds of fraud and domestic cruelty. You're nothing to me. You're just a convict."
As the officers slammed Michael onto the floor and clicked the cold steel handcuffs around his wrists, Michael let out a guttural, blood-curdling scream of total despair.
