Chapter 8 - The AftermathBy Tuesday morning, the story was already dominating the financial news networks and trending across every major social media platform in the country.
BREAKING: Prominent Architect Dominic Vance Arrested in Multi-Million Dollar Embezzlement Scheme Led by Federal Task Force. SHOCKING EXPOSE: Wife of Disgraced Executive Revealed as Sole Heir to Forensic Titan Arthur Vance.
My phone—a brand-new secure device—buzzed incessantly on the kitchen island. Screen names I hadn't heard from in years, distant acquaintances, socialites who had once turned up their noses at me at charity galas, and corporate executives desperately trying to distance themselves from Sterling Corp were all flooding my inbox with desperate messages.
Audrey, darling, we had no idea what Dominic was putting you through... Audrey, please call me back, let's grab coffee and catch up... Audrey, our firm would love to offer you a partnership...
I didn't open a single one of them. I simply selected all, clicked Delete, and emptied the trash.
The estate was remarkably quiet without Victoria’s sharp tongue or Natalie’s grating laughter. The staff—the chefs, housekeepers, and gardeners whom Dominic had routinely underpaid and mistreated—had already been rehired under new contracts directly through Vance Global Forensics, with a retroactive bonus paid out from my personal accounts.
As I walked out onto the back patio, holding a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea, I looked out over the sprawling manicured lawns and the sparkling infinity pool.
The sun was warm on my face. The air was crisp and clean.
There was no fear in my chest. No trembling in my hands. No metallic taste of copper on my tongue—only the rich, grounding flavor of absolute, uncompromised freedom.
They thought they owned me. They thought I was a prisoner in my own home.
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They were right about one thing, though.
It was my house. And now, I was finally ready to live in it.
