Chapter 6 - THE ACCOUNTING
The heavy reinforced glass door exploded inward in a shower of ten thousand shimmering, harmless safety granules.
Brenna screamed, ducking behind a leather sofa, covering her head with her arms.
Diego staggered back, his hands raised in front of his face as cold mountain air and exhaust fumes poured into the luxurious living room.
Alvin Sterling stepped through the shattered doorway, his leather boots crunching against the broken glass on the hardwood floor. Pendelton and two armed operators followed him, taking positions near the grand archway to block all interior exits.
Alvin walked into the center of the room. He took off his black leather gloves, folding them neatly, and placed them on the walnut dining table directly beside the binder containing the share transfer papers.
He picked up the binder.
Alvin turned to page seven, his sharp eyes scanning the forced transfer clause that Diego had attempted to coerce Clara into signing.
"Forty-two percent of Sterling Global," Alvin said softly, his voice echoing through the silent room like a funeral bell. "You really thought you were clever, didn't you, Diego?"
Diego swallowed hard, trying to summon the arrogant composure that had carried him through his business life, but his voice shook uncontrollably. "Alvin... listen to me. This is a massive misunderstanding. Clara had an episode—a dizzy spell! She fell into the pool area, and when I went to help her—"
"I watched the video, Diego," Alvin interrupted quietly.
The sentence hung in the air, absolute and impenetrable.
Diego’s mouth closed. The last illusion of his defense evaporated.
"I watched you shove my pregnant daughter under an unheated spring shower in twenty-six-degree weather," Alvin continued, taking a slow step toward him. "I watched you stand over her with your arms folded while she begged for her life and the life of my grandchild. I watched you turn the light off and walk inside."
Alvin stopped two feet from Diego.
Despite being twenty-seven years older, Alvin towered over Diego in sheer presence, physical stature, and absolute authority.
"Alvin, please," Brenna stammered, scrambling up from behind the couch, her pearls shaking against her chest. "We can settle this privately! Think of the publicity! Think of the stock price of Sterling Global if this becomes a public scandal!"
Alvin didn't even look at her. "Pendelton."
"Sir," Pendelton replied, stepping forward.
"The federal warrants?"
"Issued twelve minutes ago by Judge Abernathy in the Northern District of Georgia," Pendelton said, opening his briefcase and producing a stack of red-stamped legal documents. "Simultaneous asset freeze orders have been served on Vance Holdings LLC, all offshore subsidiary accounts in Grand Cayman, and the Blackwood Ridge property deed."
Diego’s eyes widened in horror. "What? You can't freeze my corporate accounts! That requires a grand jury indictment!"
"You were indicted six hours ago, Diego," Alvin said coldly. "Did you really think I didn't monitor the financial movements of the man my daughter married? I knew about the twelve million dollars you embezzled from the Blackwood Development Trust two months after the wedding. I knew about the hidden shell companies in Nevis. I let you play your little games because Clara believed she loved you."
Alvin reached down, picked up the silver pen Diego had left on the table, and snapped it in half with his bare fingers, tossing the pieces onto the floor.
"That love ended at 11:43 PM tonight," Alvin said.
"You have no jurisdiction here!" Diego yelled, his fear finally turning into desperate, frantic rage. "This is private property! You broke down my door with armed thugs! I'm calling the state police!"
"The Georgia State Patrol is currently blocking the entry road at the base of the mountain," Pendelton informed him smoothly. "Along with four units from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They are waiting for us to clear the medical transport before they come up the drive to execute the arrest warrants."
As if on cue, distant red and blue lights began flashing through the thick fog at the end of the long gravel driveway.
Diego looked toward the windows, his face pale, his breath coming in fast, shallow gasps.
Alvin stepped closer, putting his face inches from Diego’s.
"If my daughter survives tonight," Alvin whispered, his voice carrying an terrifying, ancient rage, "you will spend the next thirty years of your life in a maximum-security federal penitentiary for attempted murder, corporate fraud, and conspiracy."
Alvin paused, his eyes burning into Diego’s soul.
May you like
"And if my daughter or my grandchild dies..." Alvin added softly, "there is no prison in this country that will be able to protect you from me."
Alvin turned his back on Diego, picked up his leather gloves from the table, and walked out through the shattered doorway into the cold mountain night.
