Chapter 6 - The Fall of the False King
Federal agents flooded the ballroom.
Men and women in windbreakers bearing the letters FBI pushed past the stunned billionaires and socialites, marching directly toward the stage.
"Nathaniel Whitmore," the lead agent barked, flashing a badge. "You are under arrest for federal fraud, embezzlement, forgery, and conspiracy to commit murder. Put your hands behind your back."
"Conspiracy to commit murder?" Nathaniel shrieked, his voice cracking as an agent grabbed his wrists and slammed him against the mahogany podium. "I didn't try to kill her! It was a medical complication! I just... I just capitalized on it!"
"You instructed medical staff to withhold life-saving intervention and attempted to traffic three infants to a state ward to eliminate them as heirs," the agent said coldly, snapping the cold steel cuffs around his wrists. "You have the right to remain silent. I highly suggest you use it."
Across the stage, two female officers intercepted Celeste before she could reach the fire exit.
"Celeste Vale?" the officer asked.
"I didn't do anything!" Celeste cried, fake tears ruining her immaculate makeup. "I'm a victim! He lied to me! He told me she was dead!"
"We have text messages proving you helped him forge the asset transfer documents, Ms. Vale," the officer replied, yanking Celeste’s hands behind her back. "You’re under arrest for accessory to fraud and grand larceny."
As they dragged Celeste away, she screamed, kicking her designer heels. "Emma! Please! I didn't know! I didn't know!"
Emma watched her go, her expression unreadable. She turned her attention back to Nathaniel as he was being marched down the stairs.
He stopped in front of her. He looked pathetic. The powerful, charming CEO was gone, replaced by a trembling, sweaty coward.
"Emma," Nathaniel begged, his voice breaking. "Em, please. We were in love once. We created three beautiful lives together. Let me see them. Let me see my children. I can fix this. I can give you everything."
Rowan tensed, stepping slightly in front of Emma, ready to physically break Nathaniel in half, but Emma put a gentle hand on Rowan’s arm. She stepped around him, bringing herself inches from Nathaniel’s face.
"You don't have children," Emma said softly. "My children have my last name. They will never know your face. They will never speak your name. You are a ghost, Nathaniel. You are exactly what you tried to make me."
She reached out and adjusted the lapel of his tuxedo, patting it twice.
"Enjoy prison. I hear they don't serve champagne."
Nathaniel sobbed as the agents dragged him out of the ballroom and into the flashing lights of the waiting police cruisers. The press captured every humiliating second of his downfall.
The ballroom was in utter chaos, but Emma stood still in the center of it all. She felt a warm, strong hand slip into hers. She looked up at Rowan. The storm in his gray eyes had settled into something warm, protective, and deeply admiring.
"Are you okay?" Rowan asked softly, ignoring the hundreds of people staring at them.
May you like
Emma smiled. It was the first genuine, unburdened smile she had worn in a year. "I want to go home, Rowan. I want to see my babies."
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