Chapter 9 - THE FALLEN CROWNS
The sight of the approaching police cruisers shattered whatever remaining shreds of delusion Margaret had clung to.
“Run!” Michael yelled, spinning on his heels to sprint down the tree-lined residential street.
He didn't make it ten yards.
Two sheriff’s deputies who had stepped out of the lead cruiser cut off his angle, tackled him cleanly onto the manicured grass of a neighbor’s lawn, and forced his arms behind his back. The sharp, metallic click of handcuffs echoed clearly down the quiet Beverly Hills avenue.
“Get off me!” Michael screamed, his face pressed into the dirt. “Do you know who I am?! I’m Daniel Vance’s brother! I’m an executive!”
“You have the right to remain silent,” the arresting deputy recited routinely, yanking Michael up by his biceps and shoving him toward the back seat of the patrol car.
Ashley fell to her knees on the pavement, sobbing hysterically, burying her face in her hands as another female deputy approached her with handcuffs ready. “Please! I didn't do anything! It was Mom! Mom told me what to buy! Mom told me Emily deserved it! Please don't put me in jail!”
Margaret stood entirely alone at the iron gates, her body trembling with absolute, uncontrollable rage.
As two deputies approached her, she looked past them, past the iron bars of the gate, and saw me walking slowly down the long cobblestone driveway.
Beside me walked Emily.
Emily was dressed in a simple, elegant cream silk dress. Her hair was clean and brushed, resting softly over her shoulders, and around her neck gleamed both the sapphire choker and the five-carat diamond pendant. She stood tall, her hand resting gracefully on my arm, no longer flinching, no longer bowing her head.
Margaret’s face twisted into an expression of demonic fury.
“Daniel!” Margaret screamed, struggling against the deputy who took hold of her wrists. “Look at me! Look at your mother! How dare you stand there with that filthy little peasant while they put chains on me?! I gave you life! You owe me everything!”
I walked up to the iron gate and stopped just inches from the bars, looking directly into Margaret’s bloodshot, wild eyes.
“You gave me life, Margaret,” I said, my voice dead and emotionless. “And then you spent the last five years trying to steal it from me. You didn't love me when I was struggling, you used me when I was successful, and you tortured the only person who ever truly cared for my soul.”
“You will burn in hell for this!” she shrieked, spit flying from her lips as the deputy clicked the steel cuffs around her wrists. “You’re nothing without family! Nothing!”
“Emily is my family,” I replied simply. “You are just a stranger who shares my DNA.”
Emily stepped forward, looking Margaret in the eye for the first time in months without fear.
“I forgave you for the insults, Margaret,” Emily said softly, her voice steady and clear. “I forgave you for making me scrub floors, and I forgave you for taking my clothes. But I will never forgive you for trying to make me believe that Daniel didn't love me. That was the real cruelty.”
Margaret lunged toward the gate, but the two deputies pulled her back, turning her around and marching her toward the waiting cruiser.
“Wait! Daniel, please!” Ashley wept from the back of the second patrol car, her designer dress ruined, mascara streaming down her cheeks. “Daniel, help us! We have no bail money! We’ll be in county jail!”
“Then you’ll learn what it feels like to live without my money,” I said quietly.
The car doors slammed shut.
The sirens chirped once, and the three cruisers accelerated down the street, carrying Margaret, Michael, and Ashley away toward the Los Angeles County Twin Towers Correctional Facility.
The street returned to complete, peaceful silence.
Julian stepped forward, tucking the remaining case files into his portfolio. “The District Attorney has indicated that given the overwhelming forensic evidence, none of them will be offered non-custodial plea bargains. Michael is facing five to seven years. Margaret is facing eight to ten. Ashley will likely receive three years with restitution orders that will liquidate every asset she possesses.”
“Ensure the restitution goes directly into a charitable foundation for domestic abuse survivors,” I instructed Julian. “In Emily’s name.”
“Understood, Mr. Vance.” Julian bowed his head respectfully and stepped into his car, leaving Emily and me alone at the gates.
I turned to Emily. The afternoon sun was setting behind the palm trees, casting long, golden beams of light across the estate.
“Let’s go pack,” I said gently.
May you like
She looked up at me, surprised. “Pack? Pack for Hawaii?”
“Pack for good,” I smiled, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “This house has too many ghosts, Em. I sold this property two hours ago to an overseas investment group. We’re never setting foot in this place again.”
