Chapter 7 - Cuffed in the FoyerBy 9:35 AM, two marked Chicago Police Department cruisers pulled into the circular driveway behind Arthur's black SUVs.
Detective Mercer, a stern, grey-haired investigator who had handled a corporate fraud case for my firm three years ago, walked through the front door alongside his partner. Arthur immediately handed him the binder containing the IP logs, bank statements, and account access records.
"Ms. Bennett," Detective Mercer greeted me with a nod before turning his gaze toward Nicole, who was still weeping on the floor, her silk pajamas wrinkled and stained with tears.
"Detective," I said smoothly. "Miss Miller has been residing in my home without a lease. During this time, she illegally accessed my corporate financial accounts and routed nearly half a million dollars to her personal entities."
"That's a lie! She's framing me!" Nicole screamed, scrambling backward against the stairs. "Mom, tell them! Tell them she's lying!"
Diane rushed toward Detective Mercer, grabbing his coat sleeve. "You can't arrest her! This is a domestic dispute! My son owns this house!"
"Ma'am, step back," Mercer's partner ordered, placing a firm hand on Diane's shoulder and forcing her away.
Detective Mercer reviewed the top three pages of Arthur's file, his eyebrows raising slightly at the clear paper trail. He looked at Nicole, then motioned to his partner.
"Nicole Miller, stand up," Mercer said.
"No! No! MOM!" Nicole shrieked as the officer pulled her up from the floor, spinning her around and pulling her wrists behind her back.
CLICK. CLICK.
The cold steel handcuffs snapped into place around Nicole's wrists.
"You have the right to remain silent," the officer began reading the Miranda rights as Nicole sobbed hysterically, her body thrashing against the restraint. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."
"Lauren! You heartless monster!" Diane screamed, her face contorted with pure, unadulterated hatred as she lunged toward me. Arthur Vance stepped effortlessly into her path, his broad frame blocking her completely. "She's twenty-five years old! You're destroying her life!"
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"She destroyed her own life the moment she mistook my bank account for her personal trust fund," I said, watching impassively as the officers escorted a sobbing Nicole out through the front doors and toward the police cruiser.
"And as for you, Diane," I added, looking at my mother-in-law's trembling frame. "Your twenty minutes are up. If you aren't off my property in sixty seconds, I will have Detective Mercer arrest you for criminal trespass."
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