Chapter 6 - The Freezing of the Assets
By Friday morning, the financial collapse of Adrian Vale was the lead story on every business news network in the country. “Vale Investment Group Collapses Amidst Seven-Hundred-Million-Dollar Fraud Allegations,” the banners read on CNBC.
Adrian sat in a cheap, fluorescent-lit diner near the courthouse, a cold cup of black coffee sitting untouched in front of him. He had spent the night in an airport hotel after his personal credit cards were declined at the Four Seasons. His smartphone was buzzing constantly with frantic calls from his investors, board members, and his defense attorneys demanding immediate retainers he could no longer afford.
The bell above the diner door jingled, and Celeste Monroe walked in. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, her hair unwashed, and she looked entirely stripped of her high-society persona. She sat down in the booth across from him, slamming her black Birkin bag onto the Formica table.
"My cards are declined, Adrian," she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. "The apartment rental office in Century City just locked me out of my corporate leasing profile. They said my security deposit was paid using a flagged account. What did you do? You told me you were a billionaire!"
Adrian looked up, his face hollow, deep dark circles carved into his skin. "I didn't do anything, Celeste. It’s Evelyn. She’s... she’s a Sterling."
"A what?" Celeste asked, her brow furrowing.
"Sterling Global Infrastructure," Adrian whispered, his voice cracking. "Her father is Arthur Sterling. The man who owns the bank, the shipping lines, the real estate trusts. Her family has a higher net worth than the entire investment banking sector of Los Angeles combined. She set a trap for me, Celeste. She let me think she was a nobody for five years, and the moment I tried to walk away, she closed the jaws."
Celeste’s face lost what little color it had left. She looked down at her Birkin bag, then back at Adrian. "If she’s that rich... then we can sue her for half her money! You were married to her for five years! Under California law, you’re entitled to fifty percent of everything she made during the marriage!"
Adrian let out a dry, hysterical laugh that turned into a cough. "I signed a prenuptial agreement, Celeste. I insisted on it before we got married because I thought I was the rich one. I wanted to protect my small investment firm from her. The agreement states that neither party has any claim to inherited wealth, pre-marital assets, or independent trust funds. I legally waived my rights to the Sterling fortune before I even knew it existed."
Before Celeste could reply, two men in dark suits entered the diner, walking straight toward their booth. One of them was an investigator from the Internal Revenue Service, and the other was Detective Ramirez from the white-collar crime division of the LAPD.
"Adrian Vale?" Detective Ramirez asked, flashing his credentials.
Adrian didn't even stand up. He simply nodded, his shoulders slumping in total surrender.
"You are being placed under arrest pursuant to a federal grand jury indictment for sixteen counts of wire fraud, securities manipulation, and grand theft," the detective announced, pulling a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt. "You have the right to remain silent."
Celeste gasped, jumping out of the booth, her hands thrown in the air. "I have nothing to do with his investments! I’m just his fiancée! I didn't sign any corporate documents!"
The IRS investigator looked at her coldly, pointing to the black bag on the table. "Miss Monroe, your lifestyle corporation received twelve million dollars in illicit transfers from VIG Holdings over the past year. We have a seizure warrant for all assets purchased using those funds—including that Hermès Birkin bag currently sitting on the table. Please step away from the property."
May you like
Celeste screamed as the investigator carefully picked up the black leather bag, placing it inside a labeled evidence pouch. Adrian was pulled from the booth, his wrists clicked into the steel cuffs behind his back in front of the diner’s patrons.
As he was led out the door, Adrian looked back through the window at the empty booth. He had traded his loyal wife, his three newborn sons, and a life of genuine honor for a temporary illusion of luxury that had vanished like smoke in the morning wind.
