Chapter 2 - The Audit of the Empire
The fluorescent lights of the precinct interview room hummed with a sterile, relentless drone. Across the stainless-steel table sat Gerald Vance, Dominic’s high-priced corporate attorney—a man whose thousand-dollar Brioni suit looked suddenly rumpled and ill-fitting in the harsh glare of police custody. Beside him, Dominic sat in an orange jumpsuit, his wrists cuffed to the bolted anchor in the center of the table, glaring at me with venomous hatred.
I sat on the opposite side, flanked by Chloe Park and a forensic accountant from the state attorney general’s office named Marcus Vance—no relation, thankfully, though sharing the surname felt like an ironic twist of fate. My right hand was heavily bandaged in white gauze, resting gingerly on the table, but my posture was straight, unyielding, and calm.
"This is an absolute farce," Gerald Vance barked, slamming a hand down on the table. "A domestic dispute blown completely out of proportion by a disgruntled spouse seeking leverage in a forthcoming divorce. My client demands immediate release on bail, and any digital files obtained without a formal warrant are inadmissible under fruit-of-the-poisonous-tree doctrines!"
Marcus Vance adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses, opening a thick leather portfolio filled with crisp financial statements, tax filings, and forensic ledger printouts. He didn't even look up at the defense attorney.
"Well, Mr. Vance, that might hold true if we were relying solely on the kitchen camera," Marcus said smoothly, his voice dripping with quiet authority. "However, pursuant to a federal warrant executed thirty minutes ago at Vance Construction LLC headquarters, we didn't just seize the security footage. We seized the master financial ledger."
Dominic’s eyes flickered, a sudden drop of sweat appearing on his forehead. "The ledger is clean. Everything is legitimate."
"Is it?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, sliding a dense spreadsheet across the table toward Dominic’s lawyer. "Because according to the corporate accounting infrastructure—an infrastructure, I might add, built and maintained exclusively by Mrs. Vance under her maiden name—there is a rather glaring discrepancy of four point two million dollars over the last twenty-four months."
Gerald snatched the papers, his eyes scanning the columns. As he read, the color drained from his face. "This... this is an internal routing error. A software glitch—"
"Software glitches don't manually forge municipal subcontractor signatures, Mr. Vance," I spoke for the first time, my voice steady, clear, and cutting through the stale air of the room like crystal. "Nor do they route public infrastructure project funds through offshore shell companies registered in the Cayman Islands under Victoria and Arthur Vance’s retirement portfolios."
Dominic lunged forward, the chains rattling violently against the table. "You ungrateful little thief! You hacked my accounts?!"
"I didn't hack anything, Dominic," I replied, holding his gaze without a single tremor of fear. "You gave me full administrative access to pay the payroll and file the quarterly tax compliance reports because you were too lazy and incompetent to do it yourself. You just forgot one fundamental rule of business: the person who builds the engine knows exactly where every single bolt is loose."
Chloe leaned back in her chair, a faint, appreciative smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Dominic Vance, in addition to your domestic assault charges, you are now formally being charged with wire fraud, grand larceny, tax evasion, and embezzlement of municipal funds. The maximum sentence on the financial counts alone is thirty years."
Gerald Vance slowly lowered the papers, looking at his client with a mixture of disbelief and profound exhaustion. "Dominic... did you touch the municipal development funds?"
"She set me up!" Dominic screamed, slamming his forehead against the metal table before guards quickly stepped in to pin him back into his chair. "She planned this! She wanted everything!"
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"Everything is mine, Dominic," I said softly, standing up from the table and letting the metal chair scrape loudly against the floor. "Remember? You taught me that phrase yourself."
As I walked out of the interview room, leaving the high-priced attorney stuttering and Dominic foaming with impotent rage, I knew the legal battle had only just begun. But the foundation of their glass castle had already crumbled into dust.
