Chapter 6 - REVEALING THE RECEIPTS
The atmosphere in the grand ballroom had shifted from shock to a morbid, breathless fascination. High-society gossips whispered behind fans and champagne flutes, recording every second on hidden smartphones, eager to broadcast the downfall of the golden boy of Manhattan real estate.
Michael scrambled to his feet, wiping frosting off his custom tuxedo pants, his face crimson with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and sheer panic. He knew that if Zariah stayed here another five minutes, she would tear open the Pandora's box of his financial crimes and personal corruption.
"Get out!" Michael roared, his voice cracking, losing all semblance of control. "Both of you, get out of my sight! You're insane, Zariah! You and this... this criminal!"
Zariah didn't flinch. Instead, she turned to the crowd, her voice ringing out clear and steady.
"Before I leave," Zariah said, her eyes sweeping over the sea of wealthy elites, "I think everyone here celebrating this wonderful union deserves a small wedding present. A token of transparency, if you will."
She reached into the sleek leather clutch she carried—not Joon’s gift, but her own—and pulled out a thick, manila envelope tied with a neat red ribbon.
Michael’s eyes bulged out of his head. He lunged forward like a drowning man grasping at a straw. "Give me that! That's private property! Security, arrest her!"
Joon stepped directly into Michael’s path, simply crossing his arms. Michael slammed hard into Joon’s solid chest as if hitting a concrete wall, bouncing off and landing flat on his back once more among the ruins of the white frosting.
Zariah ignored the commotion entirely. She untied the ribbon, slid out a sheaf of heavy legal documents, and handed them to a stunned older gentleman standing in the front row—Arthur Sterling, senior partner at Sterling & Vance Law Firm and one of the most powerful corporate lawyers in the city.
"Mr. Sterling," Zariah said politely. "You’ve always appreciated accurate financial auditing, haven't you? Feel free to look through those. You'll find copies of the forged medical records Michael used during our divorce proceedings, alongside the shell company wire transfers he used to siphon funds from his investors to pay for this very wedding."
Arthur Sterling adjusted his reading glasses with trembling fingers, scanning the first page. As his eyes tracked down the lines of text, the color slowly drained from his face, replaced by a cold, professional disgust. He looked up at Michael, who was still groaning on the floor.
May you like
"Good lord, Whitmore," Sterling muttered, his voice echoing through the silent room. "This isn't just civil fraud. This is federal wire fraud and forgery. You're looking at twenty years."
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