Chapter 3 - The Federal AuditThe presence of federal law enforcement instantly sucked all the oxygen out of the room.
Detective Marcus Vance, a tall man with sharp gray eyes and a tailored trench coat, stepped to the forefront. He didn't look at the roasted duck or the expensive wine; his gaze locked straight onto Julian Thorne.
"Julian Thorne?" Detective Vance asked, pulling a leather folio from his coat.
Julian swallowed hard, taking a step back until his hip hit the edge of the mahogany table. "There... there must be some mistake. I am a senior partner at Thorne & Sterling. You can't just barge into a private residence—"
"A private residence owned by Aegis Holdings LLC, which officially filed a multi-million-dollar emergency injunction and criminal referral for corporate identity theft and asset diversion less than twenty minutes ago," Vance interrupted, his voice flat and authoritative.
He signaled to the officers behind him. Two marshals stepped forward, their hands resting near their utility belts.
"Julian Thorne, you are under arrest for securities fraud, corporate embezzlement, and wire fraud," Vance declared, reading the Miranda rights as he stepped closer. "And Ms. Chloe Davis, you are being detained as a co-conspirator in the illicit transfer of corporate property."
"No! This is insane!" Chloe shrieked, jumping out of her chair. She grabbed Julian's arm. "Tell them, Julian! Tell them you're rich! Tell them your family owns everything!"
Julian couldn't speak. His eyes darted around the room, finally landing on me. The realization of what he had thrown away—the safety net, the brilliant career architecture, the quiet protection I had given him for half a decade—finally hit him like a physical blow.
"Elena," Julian choked out, his voice cracking with panic. "Elena, please. We've been married for five years. Drop the charges. Tell them it's a domestic misunderstanding. We can fix this. We can go back to how things were."
I looked at him with complete detachment. The man who had laughed while dropping a one-dollar bill onto my plate was now begging for mercy.
"How things were?" I asked softly. "When you spent every anniversary working late with Chloe while telling me you were closing deals? When your mother and sister treated my home like a hotel where they could belittle me at will? No, Julian. We are exactly where you wanted to be. You wanted to move forward, didn't you?"
The marshals moved in, snapping the steel handcuffs onto Julian's wrists with a sharp, metallic click. As they pulled him toward the doors, Leo and Beatrice sat paralyzed in their chairs, too terrified to utter a single word, realizing that their own lavish lifestyles had just evaporated into thin air.
As they led Julian past me, he stopped for a second, his eyes bloodshot and desperate. "You'll ruin everything you built too," he whispered bitterly.
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"I built it once," I replied, adjusting my diamond necklace—a gift from my actual grandfather, not Julian's fake wealth. "I can build it twice. But you? You're starting from zero. Actually, considering your debt, you're starting well below zero."
They hauled Julian and Chloe out into the rainy Bel Air night, the flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers painting the grand hallway in strobing crimson and azure.
