Chapter 5 - The Fall of the Harts
The sight of Patricia Hart in her emerald green gown and Blake Hart in his Tom Ford tuxedo being led out of the St. Regis ballroom in steel handcuffs was splashed across every major news network in the world by midnight.
CNN: “Hart Family Dynasty Collapses in Miami Fraud Sting!” Bloomberg: “Evelyn Hart Reclaims Hart Logistics in $100M Federal Seizure.” The Wall Street Journal: “The Ghost’s Revenge: How Evelyn Hart Bought an Airline and Exposed a Fraud in 24 Hours.”
Madison Hart tried to flee the hotel through the service elevator, carrying three designer handbags stuffed with diamond jewelry. She was intercepted in the parking garage by federal marshals, who seized the jewelry as assets purchased with embezzled funds.
Inside the private holding facility at the Miami Federal Courthouse, Blake sat at a cold steel table, his tuxedo jacket gone, his tie undone, staring wildly at his court-appointed defense attorney.
“Where is my private lawyer?” Blake screamed, slamming his hands against the metal table. “Call Harrison! He’s been our family attorney for ten years!”
“Mr. Harrison dropped you as a client forty minutes ago,” the attorney replied dryly, opening a stack of court papers. “Vanguard Global filed a twenty-million-dollar civil suit against his law firm for assisting in the forgery of your father’s will. He’s currently trying to avoid being disbarred.”
Blake fell back into his chair, breathing heavily, his hands clutching his head. “This isn't happening... This isn't happening... She was supposed to be broke! She lived in a tiny cottage in Vermont!”
“Your sister owns Vanguard Global, Mr. Hart,” the lawyer noted coldly. “She bought that cottage because she wanted privacy after her father died. Her personal net worth is estimated at 1.4 billion dollars. She was never broke. She was just living simply.”
Blake let out a hysterical, broken laugh, burying his face in his hands as the reality of his own utter stupidity finally crushed him.
Meanwhile, in the preliminary hearing room down the hall, Veronica Pike and Captain Dean Mallory sat on wooden benches waiting for their administrative disciplinary review with the Aviation Authority.
Veronica was dressed in plain civilian clothes, her navy Atlantic Crest uniform surrendered the night before. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.
The door opened, and Evelyn walked into the room, accompanied by Julian Vance.
Veronica immediately stood up, stepping toward Evelyn with her hands clasped in desperation.
“Miss Hart! Please!” Veronica wept, falling to her knees on the linoleum floor. “Please, I am so sorry! I didn't know who you were! Mr. Hart told me you were a troublemaker! I was just trying to protect the first-class service standards!”
Evelyn stopped, looking down at the kneeling woman without anger, but without pity.
“That’s the problem, Veronica,” Evelyn said quietly. “You thought ‘service standards’ meant treating people in cheap clothes like dirt, and treating people in expensive suits like gods.”
“I’ll change! I’ll go through retraining! I’ll work in economy for five years!” Veronica begged, tears ruining her makeup. “Please don't take my aviation license! It’s the only way I support my mother!”
Evelyn looked at Captain Dean Mallory, who sat on the bench with his head bowed, unable to even meet her eyes.
“Your licenses won't be revoked permanently,” Evelyn announced softly.
Veronica gasped, hope flaring in her eyes.
“However,” Evelyn continued, her voice turning to steel, “your employment with Atlantic Crest Airlines is terminated permanently today. And I have placed a note in your industry file detailing your behavior.”
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“Miss Hart... please...” Veronica sobbed.
“If you ever work in aviation again, Veronica,” Evelyn said, stepping past her toward the exit, “you will start at the very bottom: cleaning the cabin floors after every flight. Maybe then you’ll learn that every passenger on an airplane deserves respect, regardless of what seat they bought.”
