Chapter 7 - Public Stripping
The front gates of the Vance estate, which had been locked by Noah’s security, were formally unlocked and thrown wide as four black-and-white federal cruisers and three unmarked government sedans roared up the circular driveway.
Federal agents in windbreakers marked *FBI: Financial Crimes Division* poured into the ballroom, weapons unholstered, flanked by state investigators.
Chief Harrison, the local police chief whom Wendy had arrogantly commanded her staff to call, walked in behind the federal agents. But he was not leading the charge. He was flanked by two internal affairs investigators who immediately confiscated his badge and service weapon.
“Arthur Vance?” the lead FBI special agent announced, ignoring the broken glass and the opulence of the room. He walked straight up to the weeping old man sitting on the floor. “We have an active federal warrant for your arrest on charges of racketeering, wire fraud, conspiracy to commit murder for hire, and violations of the Clean Water Act. Stand up.”
Arthur didn't stand up. His legs had completely given out. Two federal agents hoisted him to his feet by his armpits, cuffing his hands behind his back. As they dragged him away, the proud patriarch lost total control of his bladder, leaving a dark, shameful trail across the imported Italian marble.
Wendy Vance watched in horror, screaming incoherently, clawing at the agents as they placed Arthur in custody.
“You can’t do this! Do you know how much money we’ve donated to the state party?! We own this county!”
“Mrs. Vance,” Julian said, stepping into her path and presenting a fresh document. “You are being served as a co-defendant in a civil forfeiture action. Every piece of jewelry you are wearing, the pearls around your neck, the diamond on your finger, was purchased with funds laundered through the shell entity *Vance Logistics Global*. Take them off.”
“What?!” Wendy gasped, stepping back, clutching her pearl necklace to her throat. “Never! These were my grandmother’s!”
“Your grandmother died in a municipal home, Wendy,” Julian replied ruthlessly. “These pearls were purchased at Sotheby’s in 2021 using embezzled pension funds from the union workers. Take them off, or the female federal agent standing behind me will remove them for you.”
With trembling, humiliated hands, Wendy unclasped the necklace. The pearls slipped from her fingers, scattering across the wet, bloody marble. Next came the four-carat diamond ring, which she pulled off with such frantic terror that she tore the skin on her knuckle.
Julian didn't even pick them up. He simply kicked them aside with the toe of his shoe.
Then, the agents turned to Isaac.
Noah finally lifted his boot from Isaac’s shoulder, stepping back to stand beside me. Isaac slowly pushed himself up, his face covered in dust, sweat, and blood, his tuxedo ruined beyond recognition.
The state troopers stepped forward with heavy steel handcuffs.
“Isaac Vance,” the arresting officer stated. “You are under arrest for aggravated felony assault, domestic battery with a deadly weapon, and unlawful imprisonment.”
Isaac looked at me, his eyes filled with a desperate, wild madness. “Flora! Tell them! Tell them it was a marital spat! Tell them we were playing a game! You can’t let them send me to prison! I’ll die in there, Flora!”
I looked down at the thirty crimson stripes burning beneath my clothes, feeling the cool, clean air filling my lungs.
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“You won't die, Isaac,” I said, my voice steady and completely devoid of pity. “You’re going to live for a very, very long time. And every single day, you will remember my thirty-fourth birthday.”
***
