Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Vance
The heavy slam of the handcuffs snapping around Evelyn’s wrists echoed sharply through the cathedral, shattering the last remnants of the family's untouchable illusion. She didn't scream or fight; instead, her posture stiffened into a rigid, defiant glare as the two federal agents escorted her past the terrified wedding guests.
As she passed Marcus, who still sat hunched in the pew with his head in his hands, Evelyn paused for a fraction of a second.
"Stand up, Marcus," Evelyn commanded, her voice cold and unyielding despite her cuffs. "Don't sit there looking like a victim. You're a Vance. Act like it."
Marcus didn't move. He didn't look up. The word 'Vance' no longer sounded like a legacy of honor; it felt like a brand of shame, a toxic inheritance built on the ruin of innocent lives.
Maya watched the older woman being led down the aisle, her expression remaining neutral. There was no joy in this victory, only a heavy, exhausting emptiness that mirrored the hollow space in her chest. She carefully removed the sparkling tiara from her head, setting it down on the altar next to the prayer book as if shedding a heavy armor she no longer needed to carry.
Arthur Vance packed his briefcase, snapping the latches shut with a crisp click. He approached Maya, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"There’s more, Maya," Arthur murmured quietly, ensuring only she could hear over the chaotic murmurs of the fleeing guests. "The federal investigators found a second hidden ledger in your mother-in-law's downtown safe deposit box. It doesn't just detail your father's company. It implicates someone else."
Maya turned her head slowly, her brow furrowing. "Who else? The board members?"
"No," Arthur replied, his expression grave as he pulled a folded photograph from his pocket and slid it into her hand. "Someone very close to Marcus. Someone who helped orchestrate the hostile takeover while pretending to be your father's most loyal assistant."
Maya looked down at the photograph. The blood drained from her face a second time, leaving her feeling dizzy. It was a picture taken twenty-two years ago, showing a young, smiling man shaking hands with Evelyn outside the Sterling estate offices—a man whose face she recognized instantly from a framed portrait sitting on Marcus's office desk at home.
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Before Maya could ask a single question, a loud crash echoed from the vestry hallway behind the altar.
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