Chapter 7 - The Confrontation
By 2:00 PM, the federal warrants were executed.
The short-squeeze on Blackwood Capital collapsed instantly as news broke that federal prosecutors had arrested Marcus Drake for market manipulation and issued arrest warrants for conspiracy against Harold Sterling and Cassandra Vale.
The fake financial reports were debunked by the SEC, causing Blackwood Capital's stock to rebound violently upward, wiping out the short-sellers and netting the firm a forty-million-dollar profit on the market rebound in a single afternoon.
The corporate threat was eliminated, but Richard knew the cancer had to be cut out at the root.
At 4:00 PM, Richard drove to Cassandra’s luxury apartment building in the Gold Coast district of Chicago. He didn't bring security. He didn't bring lawyers.
He walked past the doorman, who knew Richard well, and took the private elevator directly to the penthouse floor.
He tapped the keycard he still possessed into the electronic lock and pushed the heavy door open.
Inside, the apartment was a scene of utter chaos. Open suitcases were scattered across the designer furniture. Cassandra was frantically throwing diamond jewelry, mink coats, and stacks of cash into a leather duffel bag. Her hair was messy, her manicured nails chipped, the pristine image of high-society elegance completely shattered.
When she heard the door close, she spun around, clutching a gold necklace to her chest.
When she saw Richard standing in the foyer, she let out a choked scream.
"Richard!" she gasped, backing away toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. "How... how did you get in here?!"
"Marcus Drake confessed, Cassandra," Richard said, stepping into the room with slow, deliberate steps. "The FBI seized Sterling's bank accounts an hour ago. He’s currently in custody."
Cassandra’s eyes went wide with pure terror. She dropped the necklace, her hands shaking violently.
"Richard... please," she begged, her voice dropping into a desperate, pathetic tone. "You don't understand! Sterling manipulated me! He convinced me that you were going to destroy my reputation! I was just trying to protect myself!"
Richard stopped ten feet away from her. He looked at her not with rage, but with profound pity and disgust.
"You tried to ruin my company," Richard said softly. "You tried to destroy my life's work. But worst of all, you starved an eight-year-old boy who never did a single thing to hurt you."
"I gave him a home!" she screamed, breaking down into hysterical sobs. "I gave you four years of my life! I played the perfect hostess! I built your social status! And you threw me away like trash for a stupid, broken little boy!"
"He is not broken," Richard said, his voice ringing with absolute clarity and conviction. "He is my son. And he is ten times the human being you will ever be."
The sirens began to wail in the street far below the penthouse windows. Flashing red and blue lights reflected off the glass.
Cassandra looked out the window, realizing the end had finally arrived. She collapsed onto the sofa, weeping bitterly, covering her face with her hands.
"Why?" she sobbed, looking up at him through mascara-stained tears. "You had everything, Richard! Wealth, power, status, me! You could have had an incredible life! Why throw it all away for him?!"
Richard looked down at her, a faint, cold smile appearing on his face.
"Because until the night I found my son eating from the trash," Richard said, "I thought wealth was measured in bank accounts. I was wrong. My son is the only thing in this world that matters."
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The heavy front door was pushed open, and three federal agents stepped into the apartment, hand-cuffs drawn.
Richard didn't stay to watch her get led away. He turned his back on her, walked out to the elevator, and left her behind forever.
