Chapter 8 - The Dominoes Fall
“Arrest?” Camden sputtered, thrashing against the investigators' grip. “For what? A domestic dispute? That’s a misdemeanor summons! My lawyers will have this thrown out in twenty minutes! Call my legal team!”
“Your legal team works for Vance Heritage, Camden,” Arthur Vance called out from the foot of the stage, his voice dripping with venom. “And you aren't being arrested for domestic assault. Not yet.”
The lead investigator unclipped a set of steel handcuffs. “Camden Tatum, you are being taken into custody pursuant to an arrest warrant issued by the State Attorney’s Office for three counts of Grand Larceny, four counts of Wire Fraud, and five counts of Falsification of Corporate Records.”
Camden’s eyes bulged. “Fraud? What fraud? That’s impossible!”
Rachel Zander walked calmly to the podium, stepping around the struggling former chairman. She placed her own tablet onto the lectern, and the giant auditorium screen shifted once more.
This time, the screen displayed a cascade of bank routing numbers, wire confirmations, and shell-company registrations.
“Over the last one hundred and eighty days,” Rachel declared, her voice clinical and devastating, “Mr. Tatum systematically diverted four point two million dollars from the Series-C technology development reserve into JR Luxe Media—an unvetted entity owned solely by Miss Jasmine Rivers.”
The cameras instantly whipped back toward Jasmine.
Reporters were already on their feet, thrusting microphones into her face.
“Miss Rivers! Did you know you were receiving stolen corporate funds?”
“Miss Rivers, are you an authorized contractor?”
“Did you conspire to embezzle from Tatum Meridian?”
Jasmine jumped out of her seat, holding her designer handbag up to shield her face from the flashing lights. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know anything! Camden handled the accounts! He told me it was my executive signing bonus!”
“A signing bonus paid before you were ever hired, Jasmine?” Rachel countered from the stage podium. “Signed off by a board that never met? With invoices billing for ‘consulting services’ that were never rendered?”
Bentley Cross stood up from his seat in the third row, his face red with shame, and raised his hand.
“She knew,” Bentley said loudly, his voice trembling but clear. “I was present at the Soho House three weeks ago. Jasmine Rivers personally asked Camden to wire the next tranche of five hundred thousand dollars so she could close on a beachfront villa in Miami. She threatened to leave him if the money didn't clear before the weekend.”
“You bastard!” Jasmine shrieked across the auditorium, her polished composure disintegrating into raw panic. “You promised you’d keep your mouth shut, Bentley!”
“I’m cooperating with the District Attorney, Jasmine,” Bentley replied, not looking at her. “I already signed the proffer agreement this morning.”
The auditorium erupted into utter pandemonium. Investors were shouting into their phones, commanding their brokers to sell or freeze accounts. Tech journalists were typing frantically, headlines already hitting the internet at the speed of light:
**TECH FOUNDER CAMDEN TATUM ARRESTED ON STAGE AMID EMBEZZLEMENT SCANDAL.**
**WIFE RECLAIMS FULL CONTROL OF TATUM MERIDIAN EMPIRE.**
The steel handcuffs clicked shut around Camden’s wrists. The sharp, mechanical sound was picked up by the hot microphone, echoing like a gavel across the vast room.
Camden stared at Vicki, his chest heaving, tears of humiliated rage finally leaking from his bloodshot eyes.
“You set me up,” he breathed, his voice breaking. “You planned this. You let me walk out here…”
Vicki leaned in close, so close he could smell the faint trace of jasmine and cedar on her skin—the perfume she had worn on the day they met, before he had traded his soul for the illusion of greatness.
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“I didn't set you up, Camden,” she whispered, her eyes clear, steady, and utterly merciless. “You set yourself up. You just thought that because I loved you, I was too weak to watch you hang.”
***
