Chapter 3 - The Family VulturesBy Friday afternoon, the news of Ethan’s arrest had ripped through the upper echelons of the city’s financial district like wildfire.
For years, the Bennett family had maintained an illusion of untouchable aristocracy—hosting charity galas, funding political campaigns, and pretending to be the pillars of moral integrity in our upscale suburban community. Now, local news outlets were broadcasting helicopter footage of federal agents hauling boxes of evidence out of Ethan’s downtown corporate office, while newspaper headlines screamed: LOCAL TECH EXECUTIVE ARRESTED IN MULTI-MILLION DOLLAR EMBEZZLEMENT SCANDAL.
I was sitting in my home office reviewing architectural blueprints for a complete interior redesign when the intercom at the front security gate buzzed loudly.
I tapped the video monitor on my desk.
Parked outside the iron gates was Victoria’s silver Mercedes sedan. Standing right beside the call box, clutching her designer handbag with a look of desperate, unhinged fury, was Victoria herself, accompanied by a pale, tear-stained Natalie.
I pressed the talk button.
“You’re trespassing, Victoria. Turn the car around before I have the county sheriff tow it.”
Victoria’s face twisted into an ugly snarl as she leaned directly into the camera lens. “Open these gates right now, you ungrateful little bitch! My son is sitting in a cold jail cell because of your malicious lies! You ruined our family!”
“Your son is in a jail cell because he’s a thief and a domestic abuser,” I replied, my voice calm, steady, and completely chilling. “And you are standing on private property owned by a woman you mocked while her arm was broken. You have twenty minutes to get off my land before the police arrive to escort you away.”
“You can’t do this!” Natalie shrieked, shoving her mother aside to scream into the intercom. “We live here! That’s our family home! Mom’s suite is upstairs!”
“Mom’s suite was cleared out by movers an hour ago,” I answered smoothly. “Her belongings are currently sitting in three rented storage lockers off Highway 9. I paid for the first month out of pity. Don't expect a second.”
I cut the feed.
On the monitor, I watched as Victoria stood frozen in disbelief, her hands trembling as she realized that her entire fortress of arrogance, social status, and financial security had completely evaporated. Within five minutes, the Mercedes reversed hastily down the private lane, tires screeching against the asphalt as they fled in disgrace.
I leaned back in my leather executive chair, letting out a deep, cleansing breath. The air in the house felt lighter. The shadows that had suffocated me for years were finally burning away under the harsh, unyielding light of truth.
My phone buzzed again. This time, it was an incoming call from an unlisted number.
I frowned, sliding my thumb across the screen to answer.
“Victoria Bennett?” a deep, gravelly voice asked.
“Speaking.”
“This is Warden Thomas from the county detention center,” the voice stated professionally. “Your husband, inmate Ethan Bennett, is requesting an urgent legal and personal consultation. He claims there has been a severe misunderstanding regarding his bank assets, and he refuses to speak with his public defender until he speaks with you.”
A dark, humorless smile touched my lips.
May you like
“Tell inmate Bennett,” I said clearly into the receiver, “that he is welcome to review all financial statements, forensic audits, and asset forfeiture forms when they are presented to him by the federal prosecutor in court. And tell him not to bother calling back.”
I hung up the phone, placed it face down on the polished mahogany desk, and went back to redrawing the walls of my office.
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