Chapter 4 - Unearthing the Past
I didn't flinch. I kept my hands loosely at my sides, my eyes locked on my mother, who couldn't even meet my gaze.
“You brought a federal prosecutor into my home, Julian?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “To execute a family custody dispute that hasn't even seen a preliminary hearing?”
Uncle Thomas stepped forward, his expression severe. “Alex, you are compromised. You are harboring a vagrant with an unverified background, and you are attempting to suppress corporate audit files belonging to Sterling Enterprises. The board has already voted to strip you of your CEO status under the emergency morality clause.”
“Morality clause?” I let out a cold, humorless laugh. “You want to talk about morality? You, Julian, who laundered four million dollars through the Singapore maritime subsidiary? Or you, Uncle Thomas, who accepted kickbacks from the Lower Manhattan zoning committee?”
Julian’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. “You have no proof—”
“I have every file,” I interrupted, tapping the glass surface of the smart-console beside the foyer. With a single voice command, the living room’s massive projection screen flickered to life.
Instantly, glowing blue folders filled the display. Financial ledgers, wire transfer receipts, encrypted email threads between Julian Vance and my mother, and—most damning of all—the medical trafficking logs detailing the illegal adoption payout for the fourth triplet who had been stolen from Maya five years ago.
Eleanor gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she stared at the screen.
“You... you hacked the family server?” she breathed.
“I didn't hack anything, Mother,” I said, stepping closer to her, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You left the master key in the office safe. The same safe you used to hide Maya’s letters, her phone records, and her desperate pleas for help when she was eight months pregnant.”
Maya stepped out from the hallway corridor, her presence commanding the entire room. She didn't look like a homeless woman anymore. She looked like an avenging angel.
“Where is my daughter?” Maya asked, her voice echoing off the marble walls with terrifying clarity. “You sold her, Eleanor. You traded a human life for a corporate merger. Where is she right now?”
Julian Vance sneered, realizing the game was slipping away from him. He gestured to the bailiffs. “Ignore the theatrics! Execute the warrant! Take the children into protective custody immediately!”
The bailiffs stepped forward, reaching for their cuffs, but before they could cross the threshold of the foyer, the elevator doors chimed again.
This time, the men stepping out were not corporate lackeys or corrupted local bailiffs.
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They wore the midnight-blue uniforms of the U.S. Marshals Service, led by a federal marshal holding an open arrest warrant signed by a federal judge.
“Julian Vance, Eleanor Sterling, and Thomas Sterling,” the marshal announced, his voice booming across the penthouse. “You are under arrest for federal human trafficking, wire fraud, and conspiracy. Put your hands behind your back.”
