Chapter 6 - The Fall of Gabriela
The arrest of Gabriela Vance didn't happen quietly in the dark. It happened at 2:00 PM on a Friday afternoon, right outside the high-end boutique on Fifth Avenue where she had just spent twenty thousand dollars of the family’s dwindling funds.
Two unmarked police cruisers pulled up to the curb, blocking her sports car. By the time she realized what was happening, two officers were walking toward her with handcuffs.
"Gabriela Vance?" the lead detective asked.
"What is the meaning of this?" she shrieked, dropping her shopping bags onto the pavement. "Do you know who I am? My father is Charles Vance!"
"You're under arrest for felony cyber-stalking, defamation, and unauthorized access to secure electronic databases," the detective said calmly, clicking the handcuffs around her slender wrists.
The paparazzi, who had been tipped off by an anonymous source (courtesy of Marcus Thorne), captured every single second of her screaming, tear-streaked face as she was shoved into the back of the police cruiser.
By that evening, my mother and father were waiting outside my penthouse building. The security staff, following my strict orders, refused to grant them elevator access. My father resorted to calling my personal assistant, begging for a meeting.
I agreed to meet them, but not in our home, and not in the corporate office. I met them in the small, dingy visitation room of the county detention facility where Gabriela was currently being held in a standard orange jumpsuit.
When Eleanor and Charles walked into the room, they looked decades older. My mother’s hair was uncharacteristically messy, and my father’s tie was crooked. Gabriela sat behind the glass partition, her eyes red from crying, her expensive manicured nails chipping against the metal table.
"Preston, please," my mother sobbed, pressing her hands against the glass looking at her daughter, then turning to me. "She’s your sister. She made a mistake. She was angry and foolish, but you cannot let her go to prison. The Vance name will never recover from this."
"The Vance name is already dead, Mother," I said, sitting across from them with absolute composure. "You killed it when you allowed your daughter to become a criminal to satisfy your own vanity."
"What do you want, Preston?" my father asked, his voice hollow, stripped of all its former power. He looked like a man who knew he was completely beaten. "The audit of the family trust is already showing irregularities. If the federal prosecutors get involved, we will lose everything. The house, the stocks, the reputation. Just tell me what it takes to drop the charges."
"I can't drop criminal charges filed by the state, Father," I said. "But I can instruct my legal team to provide a mitigating statement that will allow her to secure a plea deal for probation and community service instead of prison time."
"Name your price," Charles said, his shoulders slumping.
"First, you will sign over the full ownership deed of the main estate to Esther. It will be her property, to keep, to sell, or to turn into a homeless shelter if she chooses. Second, you and Mother will relocate to the small cottage property in Maine permanently. You will have no involvement in city affairs, no attendance at public galas, and no contact with any members of the logistics board. Third, Gabriela will check herself into an inpatient rehabilitation and psychological facility for a minimum of one year."
Gabriela let out a muffled scream behind the glass, but my father simply nodded, his eyes fixed on the floor.
"We agree," he whispered.
"And one last thing," I added, standing up. "You will write a confession. A full, detailed statement admitting that every rumor, every blog post, and every insult directed at Esther over the last two years was a coordinated lie born out of your own financial desperation. You will sign it before a notary before the sun sets today."
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My mother looked up at me, her eyes full of a bitter, resentful defeat. "You hate us that much, Preston?"
"I don't hate you at all, Mother," I replied, looking down at her with genuine pity. "To hate you, I would have to value your opinion. I am simply clearing the weeds out of my garden so my family can finally grow."
