Chapter 3 - The Web of Treachery Unraveled
By noon, news of Crestview Construction’s sudden collapse sent shockwaves through the Los Angeles business community. Stock in Crestview’s public subsidiaries plummeted by 85% within two hours. Subcontractors pulled their workers from job sites, and city inspectors issued work-stoppage orders on three major municipal projects.
Inside the Bel Air mansion, chaos reigned.
Beverly Moretti was hysterically pacing the grand living room, shoving crystal vases, designer handbags, and gold jewelry into large leather suitcases.
"We have to leave before they seize the house!" Beverly shrieked at Annika, who was sitting on the floor sobbing over her deactivated credit cards. "That crazy girl is going to take everything! Where is Edwin?!"
"I don't know!" Annika wailed. "He went to her office four hours ago and hasn't answered his phone since!"
Just then, the front doors were pushed open. Edwin stumbled into the foyer, looking completely defeated. His tie was gone, his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his eyes were hollow.
"Edwin!" Beverly ran over, grabbing his shoulders. "Did you fix it? Did you make that ungrateful girl sign the release forms?"
"It's over, Mom," Edwin said, his voice flat and lifeless. "It's all gone."
"What do you mean, gone?!" Beverly slapped his chest in panic. "We have the house! We have the cars!"
"We don't own the house, Mom!" Edwin yelled, finally snapping. "The deed to this mansion isn't in my name! It’s owned by the Stanford Family Real Estate Trust! We were renting it for one dollar a year under a conditional occupancy lease!"
Beverly stumbled back, clutching her pearls, her face turning pale. "What... what about the $2 million I put in my offshore account last month?"
"Frozen," Edwin muttered, sinking onto the bottom step of the staircase. "Her legal team filed an emergency Mareva injunction. The Swiss authorities froze every account linked to our social security numbers."
Before Beverly could process the horror, three black SUVs pulled up the private driveway outside.
Six men in sharp suits stepped out, led by a sharp-eyed woman holding a stack of manila folders. It was Victoria Vance, Stanford Global’s chief forensic accountant, accompanied by three uniformed officers from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department.
Victoria pushed open the broken front door, stepping onto the marble foyer with her heels clicking sharply.
"Good afternoon, Moretti family," Victoria announced coldly. "I am here on behalf of Chairwoman Camila Stanford."
Beverly immediately stood tall, trying to muster her old arrogance. "Get out of my house! You're trespassing!"
"Actually, Mrs. Moretti, you are the trespassers," Victoria replied, handing a document to the lead Deputy Sheriff. "As of 11:00 AM, the Stanford Family Trust terminated your lease due to gross property damage and breach of contract. You have thirty minutes to collect your personal clothing and vacate the premises."
"Thirty minutes?!" Annika shrieked. "All my designer clothes are here! My shoes! My jewelry!"
"Any item purchased using funds drawn from Crestview Construction’s corporate accounts between 2021 and 2026 is currently classified as evidence in an ongoing grand jury embezzlement investigation," Victoria stated flatly. "If you attempt to remove those items, you will be arrested on the spot for destruction of evidence."
Two deputies stepped forward, setting open cardboard boxes on the floor. "Clothing only, ladies. No jewelry, no artwork, no electronics."
Beverly let out a strangled cry of rage and humiliation. "You can't treat us like criminals! I am Beverly Moretti! I host the annual Bel Air Charity Gala!"
"Not anymore, Mrs. Moretti," Victoria smiled thinly. "The charity committee removed you from the board two hours ago after learning that $100,000 from last year's charity drive was diverted to pay for your cosmetic surgeries."
Beverly choked on her breath, looking around the grand foyer that had been her kingdom for five years.
Meanwhile, Victoria turned her attention to Edwin, who was still sitting motionlessly on the stairs. She pulled a blue folder from her arm and dropped it into his lap.
"What's this?" Edwin asked numbly.
"A summons from the District Attorney's office," Victoria answered. "And a personal gift from Camila."
Edwin opened the folder.
Inside were dozens of high-definition photographs. They showed Edwin entering luxury hotels in Miami, Las Vegas, and Malibu with Chloe Bennett—his lead marketing manager and secret mistress. The folder also contained receipts for $300,000 worth of diamond necklaces, sports cars, and penthouse rentals Edwin had purchased for Chloe using company funds.
"Chloe was brought in for questioning by the DA two hours ago," Victoria added casually. "In exchange for full immunity, she gave a complete three-hour deposition detailing how you used Crestview to launder money, and how you promised to leave Camila once you secured George Stanford's fortune."
Edwin stared at the photos, his world crumbling into a million unrecoverable pieces. Chloe—the woman he thought loved him for his power—had sold him out in less than a heartbeat to save herself.
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"She... she promised she loved me," Edwin whispered pathetically.
"She loved your money, Edwin," Victoria said, looking at him with utter disgust. "The same money you stole from the woman you forced to stand in the rain."
