Chapter 8 - The Fall of the House of Carter
The rotunda outside was an explosion of shouting voices and strobe-like flashes as the library doors swung open.
Daniel Carter emerged not as the untouchable scion of real estate royalty, but as a federal criminal defendant. Two FBI agents held him firmly by the arms, his hands cuffed behind his back. The bespoke tie was crooked; his hair fell across his forehead in disheveled strands.
“Get those cameras out of my face!” Daniel snarled, lunging toward a photographer from the Associated Press. “Emily! You think you’ve won? You don't have a penny! You can’t afford that apartment! You can’t afford the shoes on their feet!”
Emily walked out of the library doors five paces behind him, holding Lucas and Mason by the hands.
She didn't shout. She didn't gloat. She looked at him with the cool, clinical detachment one might afford a broken machine that had finally been unplugged.
“The trust pays for their shoes, Daniel,” she said quietly, her voice carrying over the click of the cameras. “And under Walter’s will, you don't even get the stipend anymore. Felons cannot inherit under Section 4 of the Carter Trust.”
Daniel’s face twisted into an expression of helpless, feral rage as the agents pushed him into the elevator, the heavy steel doors sliding shut and cutting off his screams.
Beside them, Victoria Sterling was being led away by two female marshals, her alligator briefcase seized as federal evidence. Dr. Robert Sterling was being wheeled down the hall on an emergency gurney, clutching his chest in the throes of an anxiety-induced cardiac event.
Arthur Vance stood beside Emily, his overcoat buttoned, a look of profound, weary satisfaction on his face.
“The United States Attorney has filed an emergency motion freezing all personal and corporate accounts associated with Carter Development,” Arthur told her, handing her a certified copy of Judge Miller’s decree. “Primary legal and physical custody of Lucas and Mason Carter is awarded to you permanently. Daniel’s parental rights have been suspended pending the outcome of his criminal trial.”
Mason looked up, tugging on Emily’s sleeve. “Mom? Does this mean we never have to go back to the big house?”
Emily knelt down on the cold marble floor, pulling both boys against her. “Never, baby. Never again.”
“Can we stay in the duplex?” Lucas asked, his voice hesitant, as though he still couldn't believe the nightmare was over. “Even if the heater makes that funny noise?”
Arthur Vance smiled, kneeling down beside the boy. “Young man, you are currently the co-beneficiary of an estate that owns forty percent of this city. You and your brother can live wherever your mother decides is best. Though I might suggest somewhere with a slightly larger backyard.”
May you like
Lucas looked at Arthur, then at his mother. For the first time in eighteen months, the terrifying, watchful intensity in the boy’s eyes dissolved. A slow, tentative smile broke across his face—the pure, unshadowed smile of a nine-year-old child.
***
