Chapter 6 - THE FALL OF NEXUS TECH
As four uniformed officers slammed handcuffs around Christian’s, Brooklyn’s, and the loan sharks’ wrists, pulling them out through the side doors of the ballroom to a barrage of flashing press cameras, my father stepped up to the main podium.
The room, still buzzing from the dramatic arrest, quickly returned to an attentive silence as Richard Prescott adjusted his microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," my father announced, his baritone voice carrying an undeniable authority. "As Chairman of Prescott Global Logistics, I have one final piece of business to conduct today regarding Nexus Tech."
Several tech investors in the audience straightened up, listening intently.
"Two years ago," my father revealed, "Prescott Global injected five million dollars of venture capital into Nexus Tech through an anonymous blind trust, purely to support my daughter's personal life. As of nine o'clock this morning, our forensic accountants completed an emergency audit of Nexus Tech’s financial ledgers."
My father pulled a thick legal dossier from his briefcase and held it up for the press cameras.
"Over the past eighteen months, Christian Reynolds systematically embezzled three pointtwo million dollars of Prescott funds, transferring them to shell accounts in the Cayman Islands to fund luxury real estate, private vehicles, and personal gifts for Miss Brooklyn Vance."
A wave of loud gasps echoed through the ballroom once again.
"Effective immediately," my father declared, "Prescott Global has exercised its contractual default clause. We have seized all intellectual property, server infrastructure, and commercial patents belonging to Nexus Tech. The company is formally dissolved, and all assets have been transferred directly into my daughter Charlotte's private holding trust."
The crowd erupted into thunderous, standing applause. Tech executives raised their glasses to me, while news reporters frantically typed out headlines that would dominate the national news cycle by noon.
Half an hour later, the press conference concluded, and the ballroom cleared out.
I sat at a sunlit table near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the bay, drinking a warm cup of Earl Grey tea. My mother sat beside me, gently holding my hand, while my father finished a phone call with our legal team.
"The Tijuana police, in coordination with the FBI, just completed the raid on the border clinic," my father reported as he walked back over to our table, slipping his phone into his pocket. "They arrested four underground surgeons and seized three million dollars in illegal pharmaceutical assets. The entire network has been dismantled."
"What about Brooklyn's brother?" my mother asked softly.
My father looked at me before answering. "He was listed on the clinic's patient roster, but medical records seized during the raid show he never actually needed a kidney transplant. The entire medical story was a fabricated scam concocted by Brooklyn and her brother to extract millions from Christian."
I let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking my head as I took a sip of tea. "So Christian was destroying his life and trying to murder his wife for a mistress who was scamming him the entire time."
"Poetic justice has a funny way of working, darling," my mother smiled, squeezing my hand gently. "He destroyed himself trying to steal a fortune, completely blind to the fact that he was already married to the biggest fortune in California."
Marcus, our chief of security, stepped up to the table holding a secure digital tablet.
"Miss Prescott," Marcus bowed respectfully. "Christian Reynolds is currently in a holding cell at the central police station. His public defender is requesting a brief ten-minute meeting with you before he is formally remanded to federal custody without bail."
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I looked down at my diamond gown, then out at the blue ocean waves crashing against the harbor below.
"Tell his lawyer I'll give him five minutes," I said smoothly, standing up. "It's time to close this account forever."
