Chapter 7 - The Arrest at the AltarFederal Marshal Vance stepped forward, pulling a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his belt.
"Dominic DeLuca," Marshal Vance declared, grabbing Dominic by his arm and pulling him up from the floor. "You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, grand larceny, and interstate transportation of stolen property."
"No! Get your hands off me!" Dominic screamed, flailing uselessly as the steel cuffs clicked tightly around his wrists behind his back. "Do you know who I am?! I am a DeLuca!"
"Not anymore," my father said flatly. "The DeLuca board voted unanimously at dawn to sell controlling interest to Vale Global. The family name on the building comes down on Monday."
Beside the altar, two more officers moved toward Jessica. She scrambled backward through the scattered lilies, her back hitting the side of Victor’s mahogany casket.
"Don't touch me!" Jessica shrieked, her voice cracking into a high-pitched hysterical screech. "I didn't steal anything! I was just his consultant! I don't work for DeLuca Shipping!"
Sterling pulled a second document from his briefcase.
"Miss Mercer," Sterling said, reading from the page, "you personally signed the incorporation documents for Vanguard Offshore LLC in Grand Cayman. You also accepted a wire transfer of twelve million dollars into your personal account at Swiss Private Bank three weeks ago—money traced directly from the stolen escrow funds."
The color drained from Jessica’s face so fast she looked like a corpse.
"Furthermore," Sterling added, glancing down at her ruined emerald gown, "Mrs. Vale has filed formal criminal charges for felony assault and destruction of property regarding the incident five minutes ago."
The officers grabbed Jessica by her bare shoulders, dragging her up from the floor despite her thrashing and kicking. Her expensive designer shoes slipped on the wine-stained floor, leaving dark red streaks across the marble.
As the officers pulled her past me, Jessica locked eyes with me, her mask of sophistication completely shattered into ugly, unadulterated hatred.
"You knew!" Jessica spat, a bubble of blood and red wine foaming at the corner of her lip where my fist had struck her. "You knew the whole time! You sat on your sofa and watched me lie to your face!"
May you like
I met her gaze without a single flicker of emotion.
"I gave you five months to prove you were my friend, Jessica," I said quietly. "You chose the money. Now you can keep him company in federal prison."
