Chapter 4 - The Fall of the House of Sterling
"Richard Sterling," the lead federal marshal announced, stepping forward with his hand resting near his sidearm. "You are under arrest for wire fraud, securities manipulation, interstate embezzlement, and the systematic looting of municipal pension funds. Turn around and place your hands behind your back."
Richard looked like a man who had just been struck by lightning. He took two stumbling steps backward, his heels catching on the edge of a lounge chair, sending him crashing awkwardly onto the grass.
"No... no, this is a setup!" Richard screamed, thrashing his legs as the two marshals closed in, wrenching his arms behind his back with practiced, merciless efficiency. "Clover! Clover, tell them! You know I’m a respectable businessman! Tell them this is a mistake!"
I stood silently beside Julian, looking down at my ex-husband as he writhed in the grass, the expensive designer clothes he loved so much now soaked in grass stains and spilled champagne.
For months, he had used his wealth and social standing to grind me down, publicly humiliating me, making me feel like a pathetic, washed-up single mother who couldn't survive without his charity. He had orchestrated this very party to rub my face in his perceived superiority.
Now, his entire empire was evaporating into the summer air.
"I told you six months ago when you served me divorce papers, Richard," I said softly, my voice carrying clearly across the silent patio. "Karma doesn't miss an address."
Click. Clack.
The heavy steel handcuffs locked tight around Richard’s wrists. The marshals hauled him to his feet, dragging his protesting, hysterical frame toward the club entrance.
Tiffany burst into a fit of high-pitched, hysterical sobbing, kicking off her Gucci sandals and fleeing across the lawn toward the parking lot, abandoning her sugar daddy without a second thought.
The country club patio was left in a state of stunned, paralyzed silence. The social elites who had whispered behind my back minutes ago now stared at the ground, terrified to make eye contact, grabbing their designer coats and scattering like mice before the lights came on.
I let out a long, slow breath, feeling an immense, invisible weight slide off my shoulders and vanish into the warm afternoon breeze.
May you like
Julian reached down, picked up the stamped federal audit drive and the velvet case from the flagstones, and slipped them back into his breast pocket. He turned to me, a warm, reassuring smile breaking across his handsome face.
"Well," Julian murmured, his stormy hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. "That takes care of the morning paperwork. Shall we get back to cutting birthday cake with the birthday boy?"
