Chapter 8 - The Fall of Sterling
Four federal agents in dark suits stepped into the boardroom, accompanied by Captain Vance and two NYPD detectives.
Special Agent Sarah Vance stepped forward, pulling a signed federal warrant from her leather briefcase. "Richard Sterling, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, corporate embezzlement, treason, and the attempted assassination of Ethan and Clara Vance."
"You have no proof!" Sterling spat, backing away toward the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overseeing Manhattan. "You can't pin this on me! The server logs from Newark are encrypted!"
"They were encrypted," a small, clear voice spoke up from the front of the room.
Lily stepped forward, letting go of her father’s hand. She looked directly into the eyes of the man who had ordered her mother’s death and terrorized her brother.
"The big man in the green mechanic's jacket," Lily said, her voice small but entirely steady. "He dropped his burner phone in the storm drain near the monument when he kicked Ethan. I picked it up before I called my dad. I gave it to the police officers this morning."
Agent Vance smiled tightly. "The burner phone contained fourteen direct text messages from your private satellite line, Mr. Sterling, detailing the payment structure for the attack on Ethan and the location of the offshore account containing Clara Vance’s stolen shares."
Sterling collapsed backward into his executive armchair, his face entirely drained of blood. The arrogance that had sustained him for four years withered away into pathetic, helpless terror.
The federal agents stepped forward, pulling Sterling’s arms behind his back and snapping heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
"Take him away," Marcus ordered coldly, without giving his late wife’s uncle another glance.
As the agents dragged Sterling out of the boardroom amidst the hushed chatter of the stunned board members, Ethan reached over and squeezed Lily’s hand tightly.
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"You did it, little sis," Ethan whispered proudly. "You got him."
Lily looked up at her father, who dropped to his knees in front of his two children right there in the middle of the corporate boardroom, pulling both of them into an embrace so tight and warm that the cold streets of New York felt like a distant, faded nightmare.
