Chapter 8
Officer Daniels took David by the elbow, pulling him to his feet. "David Bennett, you're under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
"Laura!" David yelled as the cold steel locked around his wrists. "Think about what people will say! Think about our reputation!"
"Your reputation died the moment your mother raised her hand against my child," Laura said, her voice like cold steel. "And as for mine... the Sterling-Hayes name has survived far worse than a parasitic social climber."
"I loved you!" David cried out, his voice cracking with desperate, hollow sentiment. "I loved you from the day we met!"
"You loved my trust fund, David," Laura replied, turning her back on him. "And you loved the illusion of power it gave you. But the illusion is over."
"Take them out through the service exit," Carter Vance instructed the officers. "We have reporters gathering at the main entrance. Ms. Sterling-Hayes does not wish for her son to be photographed by the press."
"Understood, counselor," Officer Daniels nodded, guiding the handcuffed David and the weeping Evelyn toward the side corridor.
"You'll burn in hell for this, Laura!" Evelyn shrieked, her voice echoing down the hallway until the heavy fire door clicked shut behind them. "You hear me? You'll burn in hell!"
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Brenda remained on the floor, sitting among the smashed strawberries, her sixty-thousand-dollar gown smeared with dirt and fruit, staring at the empty tables with hollow, vacant eyes.
"What am I supposed to do?" Brenda whispered to the empty room. "Where am I supposed to go?"
Laura walked over to her sister-in-law, stopping three feet away. She looked down at the woman who had spent two years treating her like an unpaid servant, demanding loans she never intended to repay, mocking her quiet lifestyle while living off her inheritance.
"There's a shelter on Fourth Street, Brenda," Laura said calmly. "They have cots, and they serve soup at six o'clock. If you hurry, you might make the line."
Brenda looked up, her face twisting into pure, helpless despair. "You're a monster."
"No, Brenda," Laura murmured, adjusting Leo’s cardigan. "I'm just a mother who finally stopped paying for her own execution."
Laura turned and walked toward the grand double doors of the ballroom. Carter Vance fell into step beside her, holding his leather portfolio under his arm.
"The transport is waiting at the private underground bay, Laura," Carter said quietly. "Dr. Morrison is on standby at your father's townhouse in Manhattan to examine Leo's head injury."
"Is the trust secure, Carter?" Laura asked, her voice dropping into a businesslike cadence. "Did he touch the overseas accounts?"
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Carter hesitated for a fraction of a second. "The domestic accounts are frozen and will be recovered through restitution, Laura. But... there is a complication."
Laura stopped mid-stride, her heart tightening. "What complication?"
