Chapter 9 - The Daughter's Fall
Victoria, shaking with hysteria, rushed toward the stage, her high heels clacking erratically against the floor. "You can't do this! Daddy, tell him he can't do this! I am Victoria Pemberton! I run this city’s social board! You’re just a thug with money!"
"Miss Pemberton," a sharp, authoritative voice cut through her screeching.
Four uniformed officers of the New York City Police Department, accompanied by two plainclothes detectives, walked briskly through the ballroom entrance. Behind them walked Mateo, the young busboy, pointing directly toward the heiress.
"That's her," Mateo said clearly. "That's Victoria Pemberton."
The lead detective walked directly up to Victoria, ignoring her father’s groans and the flashing cameras of the gala guests. He pulled a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt.
"Victoria Pemberton?" the detective asked.
"Do you know who I am?!" she shrieked, backing away. "Get your filthy hands away from me! Don't you dare touch my dress!"
"Victoria Pemberton, you are under arrest for felony assault in the second degree, elder abuse, and reckless endangerment," the detective stated dispassionately.
He seized her slender wrists, spun her around with practiced efficiency, and clicked the cold steel cuffs around her wrists with a sharp, mechanical snap.
"Daddy! Do something! Daddy!" Victoria screamed, writhing against the officer’s grip as she was forced toward the ballroom exit. "Call our lawyers! Call the mayor! You can't let them take me in an alley like a common criminal!"
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Not a single friend, not a single board member, not a single socialite reached out a hand. Instead, dozens of phones were held high, streaming her weeping, disheveled arrest directly to millions of viewers across the internet.
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As the officers marched Victoria past the stage, she caught sight of Irene Washington looking down at her.
There was no malice in Irene’s eyes. No triumph. Only a profound, sorrowful pity. That pity hurt Victoria more than any slap ever could; it stripped away the illusion that she was superior, leaving her nothing more than a small, broken bully being hauled into the back of a police cruiser.
