Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Albright
By midnight, the Grand Halston Ballroom was empty of partygoers, but filled with forensic investigators, federal agents, and news crews standing outside under the pouring rain.
The live stream of the gala had been picked up by major news networks worldwide. Within three hours, the stock of Albright Enterprises had crashed by forty percent—only to recover instantly when the board released an emergency statement announcing that I, Vivian Vance-Albright, was stepping back into the role of Executive Chairwoman.
Inside the VIP holding room of the downtown police precinct, Christopher sat behind a iron table, wearing a gray jumpsuit provided by the state. His expensive tuxedo had been taken as evidence.
His criminal defense attorney, a high-priced lawyer named Sheldon Vance (no relation to my family), sat beside him, looking through the mountain of evidence provided by Luke and Detective Miller.
"Sheldon, get me bail," Christopher demanded, his voice raspy, his fingers twitching uncontrollably. "I have offshore assets! I can pay whatever the judge wants!"
Sheldon pushed his glasses up his nose and let out a heavy, tired sigh. "Christopher, look at page forty of the filing. Your son didn't just track your American accounts. He notified the Swiss Financial Market Supervisory Authority three hours before the gala. Every single offshore account in the Cayman Islands, Zurich, and Liechtenstein has been frozen under federal asset-forfeiture warrants."
Christopher went dead silent, his face turning gray. "What... what about my personal properties?"
"The Beverly Hills house is registered under the Vance Family Trust," Sheldon explained ruthlessly. "Your luxury cars were leased through the company holding firm—which Vivian now controls. You don't even own the suit you were wearing tonight, Christopher. You are utterly, completely broke."
The heavy steel door clicked open.
I stepped into the room, accompanied by Attorney Marcus Vance. I wore a simple, elegant dark gray wool coat over my suit, holding a silver thermos of hot coffee.
Christopher leaped up from his chair, his chains rattling loudly against the floor.
"Vivian!" he pleaded, leaning across the table, his face desperate. "Please! We can work this out! I was manipulated by Brenda! She poisoned my mind! She made me think you didn't love me anymore! You know I've always loved you!"
I took a slow sip of my coffee, looking at him with the cold curiosity one might give an insect under glass.
"You didn't love me, Christopher," I said softly. "You loved my father’s empire. You loved the illusion of power I allowed you to carry. And when you realized I was smarter than you, you tried to erase me."
"I’ll sign over everything!" Christopher cried out, tears finally breaking from his bloodshot eyes. "I’ll sign the divorce! I won't fight you on anything! Just tell the prosecutor to drop the attempted murder charge! I can't go to prison, Vivian! I won't survive!"
I leaned forward, resting my hands on the cold metal table, looking directly into his eyes.
"The poison you put in my soup took eight months to wear down my body," I whispered, every word sharp as diamonds. "You will have twenty-five years in a federal penitentiary to think about every single spoonful."
I stood up, pulling my gloves back on.
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"Goodbye, Christopher."
"Vivian! Don't do this! Vivian!" he screamed as Marcus and I walked out of the room, his panicked cries echoing down the cold concrete corridor until the iron door slammed shut, cutting his voice off forever.
