Chapter 10 - The Fall of Celeste Wade
The ballroom descended into utter, chaotic pandemonium. Guests stood up from their tables, shouting and whispering in shocked disbelief. Several senior members of the Vance Logistics board looked at the screen, their faces turning pale as they realized their entire corporate reputation had just been obliterated in front of the city's major financial regulators.
Celeste turned to James, her face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated rage, her voice a sharp, ugly shriek. "You think you’re smart, James?! It doesn't matter what that video says! The notary just stamped the papers! I own fifty-one percent of your voting shares! I own you! You can't undo a legalized state contract!"
"I know you can't undo it, Celeste," James said, looking down at her with an expression of cold, detached pity. "That’s why I didn't change the contract after you signed it. I changed it before you signed it."
He nodded to Thomas Keane, who stepped onto the stage flanked by four federal agents in dark suits. Thomas handed a copy of the finalized contract to the lead investigator from the Securities and Exchange Commission.
"Miss Wade," the investigator said, his voice carrying the weight of the federal government. "We have reviewed the document you just executed on this stage. Under Section 14.4, you have formally signed a full, legal confession admitting to corporate espionage, wire fraud, and grand larceny. Furthermore, you have legally transferred your entire personal offshore asset portfolio—totaling fourteen million dollars—to the Vanguard Community Trust. You are under arrest."
Celeste’s eyes went wide, her knees buckling beneath her white silk gown as two federal agents stepped forward, pulling her arms behind her back and snapping steel handcuffs around her wrists. Her blonde hair fell over her face, the perfect, elegant facade completely shattered as she was dragged down the stage steps in front of three hundred of her peers.
Richard Vance tried to march toward the exit, his cane swinging wildly, but Thomas Keane stepped into his path, accompanied by two agents from the FBI's financial crimes division.
"Mr. Vance," the agent said, presenting a federal warrant. "Your nephew, Arthur Vance, was taken into custody forty minutes ago. He has already provided a full deposition detailing your personal financial involvement in this conspiracy. We have a warrant for your arrest and the immediate seizure of Vance Logistics’ corporate servers."
Richard Vance stared at the warrant, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, his silver cane slipping from his fingers and clattering loudly against the marble floor.
James stood at the edge of the stage, watching the wreckage of the empire that had tried to destroy him. He felt no anger. No heartbreak. Just a deep, profound sense of clean, quiet relief.
He felt a soft tug on his trousers.
He looked down. Maya was standing beside him, her black leather notebook held tightly in her small hand, her dark eyes looking up at him with a quiet, knowing smile.
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"They didn't see me, Mr. Foster," she whispered.
James knelt down, wrapping his large hand gently around her small shoulder. "No, Maya. They didn't. And that was their biggest mistake."
