Chapter 7
The soft glow of the smartphone screen illuminated the stranger's face—a young woman with sharp features and an expression of absolute, unyielding professional coldness. She held the device out in front of her like a shield, the built-in speaker broadcasting a clear, crisp audio file that echoed off the brick walls of the patio.
"...I bought every badge in this district twenty years ago, and inflation hasn't changed their loyalty..."
Richard’s face drained of color for the first time all evening. He slowly turned his head toward the newcomer, his grip on the silver revolver loosening just a fraction.
"Who the hell are you?" Richard growled, taking a threatening step toward the young woman.
"Detective Marcus, State Financial Crimes Division," the woman replied smoothly, slipping her badge case out of her trench coat pocket and flashing it with practiced ease. "And what you just said into the open air has been automatically streamed to a secure cloud server shared by the federal prosecutor's office."
Clara let out a shaky breath, stumbling backward until she hit the patio table. "Federal... federal crimes? Mother, did you know about this? Were you working with the police?"
Eleanor didn't answer immediately. She slowly looked from Detective Marcus to Richard, then down at the ruined birthday cake lying in the grass between them. A strange, tired smile touched the corners of her mouth.
"I didn't call the federal police, Clara," Eleanor said softly, her voice carrying a haunting finality. "I called the tax bureau. They don't care about family loyalty; they only care about untraceable offshore accounts."
Arthur stepped away from Richard, adjusting his dark polo shirt as he watched the older man’s composure finally crumble. The predatory confidence in Richard’s blue eyes was replaced by a frantic, calculating panic.
"You set me up," Richard whispered, looking directly at Eleanor. "You lured me back here with the fake birthday cake just to walk me into a federal trap."
"You abandoned us, Richard," Eleanor replied, her voice steady and emotionless. "You left us to take the blame for your crimes while you lived in luxury under a false name in the Caymans. Did you really think we would just sit here and wait for you to die?"
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Detective Marcus stepped closer, pulling a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from her belt. "Richard Vance, you are under arrest for federal wire fraud, identity theft, and the unlawful flight to avoid prosecution. Turn around and place your hands behind your back."
Richard slowly raised the silver revolver, not toward the detective, but toward Eleanor.
